A Murder Of Mass
by InsidiousAgent
Summary: A young swede ends up in the Mass Effect universe, only to find that there is something very different about this particular universe. Rated M because, well, why limit oneself? Life is dirty, smutty and violent when lived to its fullest.
1. Waking Up

**Authors' Note: Lads and Ladies! Welcome! Now, after my epic failure with the stillborn Mass Trancendance project, I have revised my approach to writing an SI. This one will be of a more "classic" character and is, in short, the very definition of a Self-Insert. It's me, cast into the ME-verse.  
****What I AM taking the liberty of changing though, is more revealing things such as names and background info. Some information is private, and I will not share such info even for the sake of art. So, these bits have been replaced.  
I will not say which, except of course for the name, because that would defeat the purpose of not telling. I am still sort of spreading my wings(insert air quote) in terms of writing fanfiction or even lengthier pieces so I'll be grateful for any constructive criticism you have to offer. Hell, I'll be glad for rants and ravings too****. I hope you find some entertainment in this piece, whatever the kind.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mass Effect franchise or any of its content. This fiction is purely fanmade without the intent of making any profit. Any personal opinions expressed in this fiction belong to the author and does not represent those of any group, association or company mentioned in this fiction.**

**A Murder Of Mass**

* * *

…

I wake up from a gentle breeze catching my hair and making it dance across my face. Grunting and stretching my neck, I sit up lazily. When I open my eyes, what I see fails to register. I blink once. Twice. Then pinch myself. I look around, eyes blank with disbelief. Unless my eyes betray me, I'm sitting on a small hill overlooking a bundle of blocky buildings that seem to make out the outskirts of some futuristic city that… No, that's not. It can't be, can it? I can see some few people by those buildings nearer to the hill I'm at. They're human, but their clothes have a very _distinct_ look.

A very distinct _familiar_ look. Fuck me sideways. Slap me silly and call me motherfucking _Sally_. I'm in the Mass Effect universe. Dumbfounded, I grab a handful of grass, tear it up and rub it between my fingers. Turning my gaze toward the settlement again, my arms fall limply to my sides, and I'm just sitting there. After a good while of motionless gawking, there's a sudden chill in the air. I wrap my arms around myself, rubbing my shoulders trying to work up some heat. It's not all that cold, I reckon it's around 20 degrees Celsius, but… I'm wearing nothing more than my boxers. Because that's what I sleep in. What I _slept_ in before I woke up in the Mass-friggin'-Effect universe!

"Tja, här kan man ju inte sitta som en annan dumfan", I mutter hoarsely to myself, noticing how dry my mouth feels. So, I promptly stand up and start walking toward the settlement.

I've barely gotten down the hill before they spot me. What looks like two men and a woman have dropped whatever they were doing and are now staring at me. I'm some 30 meters away, when I realize I have no clue as to what to say. My nerves start to act up, and a sinking feeling takes a hold of my gut. I have absolutely _no_ idea what to say. Hardly the truth, "_guess what guys, you're not real!"._ The feel of grass against the soles of my feet however, tells me that this is all indeed _very_ real.

So, I tell them the truth, but I leave out the parts that will get me thrown into a nuthouse? As good a plan as any. The best lie is the honest one after all. Clearing my throat and taking a deep breath, I brace myself for whatever is to come.

* * *

**Authors' Addendum:  
This is just a short introduction to get started, but there will be some non-english content here in this fic. I'm swedish, and _were_ I to end up in the ME-verse then I would not just suddenly speak and think solely in english. I'll try to keep the thinking in swedish to a minimum for the readers comfort, and when I use swedish I'll also provide a translation or explanation here in the addendum. Perhaps this will dispel the notion that swedes speak german? One can only hope.**

***"Tja, här kan man ju inte sitta some en annan dumfan" = (roughly)Well, can't sit around here like some dumb fuck"**


	2. Brew And Boys In Blue

**Authors' Note: I'm picking up speed. But we're just starting here so be patient with the lack of action so far.**

* * *

Soo… Maybe this was a mistake.

I'm currently standing in front of three silent and evidently baffled persons. One elderly man with grey hair, sharp features and a weathered look. One red-haired woman who looks to be in her thirties perhaps, at least from what I'm used to. Then again, people in the ME-verse future _do_ live longer. Presumably they age slower as well. The other man, also red-haired, looks about the same age as the woman and his right eyebrow is raised in a textbook _are you kidding?!_ look. Now, getting down to them was easy once I'd gathered the momentum of my decision. Standing here though… I've got nothing. Frankly, I don't even know if they speak English.

I need to break the ice. Badly. No use standing here shuffling my feet.

"So, yeah, I don't come here very often." I say with a lopsided little smile.

Me talking has an immediate effect, as all three of them seem to get shaken from their daze.

"No shit", the younger man says, clearly without thinking. The elderly man immediately shoots him a glare at this remark.

"What the boy means to say is, well, that this is quite the surprise", the elderly man's voice is surprisingly strong yet also cautious as he continues, "where'd you come from, son? And what happened to your clothes?"

Their accents sound American to my ears.

I clear my throat before answering. I haven't spoken in English properly since my school days. Well, the occasional tourist at work every now and then but speaking _proper_ English with them just makes them understand you less so in practice I haven't had any exercise in speaking English.

"I honestly don't know. Well, I mean, I know where I _came_ from, but I've no idea how I got here. Last thing I remember I was on Earth", I make a sweeping motion with my hand, encompassing the surroundings, "And this isn't Earth as far as I can see"

"Earth, huh? You trouble, boy?", the elderly man inquires with a sharper tone of voice.

I know what he's getting at. Ending up near on naked somewhere you don't know how you got to doesn't look good anywhere. The most logical conclusion would be that I'm some red sand junkie or something similair.

And apparently that's what they're thinking now, as the woman brings up her omni-tool.

"Look, I swear, I have no idea how I got here!", I plead, hoping that the situation won't devolve.

"And I'm not some junkie! I mean… where am I even?", I add nervously, obviously not convincing anyone.

Low reputation points sucks…

"Look now, whatever the case the police needs to be involved. We'll call them and you just wait here okay? Kyle, take him inside, will ya?", the elderly man gives me a more sympathetic look before he adds; "You're quite the bit away from Earth, son. This is Eden Prime. Now come inside, we'll get you a blanket while you wait for the police, alright?"

* * *

A while later, I'm sitting inside their living room with a blanket wrapped around me. Kyle, as the younger man is apparently called, is watching me with a curious look. So far he hasn't asked me any questions, but I can almost hear the cogs grinding in his head. The other two seemed nice enough, giving me a blanket and offering me to wait here in their home. The woman, name's apparently Cate, went off with the elderly man who introduced himself as "Abe". I'm guessing they're going to meet up with the police when they get here. I'm finding myself kind of… blank, right now. Guess I'm in shock. Don't feel bad though just like someone pulled the carpet from under my psyche.  
Like everything's been turned upside down.

So here we are. Me and Kyle the Space Hick thinking so hard you can smell our brains frying.

"Aah! Jag ger upp!", I exclaim, throwing my arms up in surrender. Kyle jerks in surprise from my sudden movement, regarding me with caution as I proceed to rest my head against the small table in front of me. There's no way in hell I can figure this out, I've nothing to go on. As far as I can remember, I just went to sleep like I usually do every Sunday last night. Then woke up here, on Eden Prime, in the same state as I was when I went to bed. I need a drink. The thought of a cold beer sheds some light on my increasingly gloomy mood.

"Say, Kyle? You wouldn't happen to have a beer around, would you?", _please say yes!_

"Uh, yeah? This is a brewery so, yeah?", Kyle says in a not-too-bright manner.

"Nice, so what you got? Beer? Something stronger maybe?"

"Sure, I'll get some, just… don't try anything, or you'll be sorry"

Kyle lumbers off after making that, uhm, threat. I smirk a little to myself. _'tarded much?_

After a few minutes he gets back with two smaller bottles in one hand and a larger one in the other. I can make out "Edens' Prime" on the large bottle, but the small ones don't have labels for some reason.

Kyle sets the bottles down on the table, then trots off again, presumably to get glasses. Let's see then. So, it's bourbon? Good, I've never been big on scotch. I like the smell, but can't quite deal with the taste. Kyle's taking a while, so I decide to crack open one of the beers. I lean back into the couch, feeling much more relaxed as I pop the bottle open and take a swig. And there's Kyle returning from his adventures in the kitchen cabinet!

"Sorry", I say, pointing at the beer in my hand, "couldn't help myself. Thirsty as hell."

Kyle nods and sets the glasses down.

"So, whaddaya think?"

I take another swig before answering, savoring the taste.

"You know, kinda reminds me of a beer from back home. It's called "Pistonhead", heard about it? It too has this… sort of richer taste. Fuller. It's a pale ale, but still has the kind of "large" taste of the darker sort…". I take another swig, more appreciative this time as I nod to myself,"Kind of 'meaty' in a way. This one's without that hint of bitterness though. It's definitely not a beginners' beer though. If it's anything like the old piston though, it tastes like sewage when warm, but damn near divine when cold."

"So, fancy yourself a connoisseur, do ya now"

I damn near choke on my beer as Abe's dry old voice rings out behind me.

* * *

Behind Abe stands Cate as well as two men in uniforms that would make trekkies drool. And I find myself choking on a concoction of laughter and beer. Abe reaches over and gives me a good slap in the back that jogs my lungs into order.

"Eden's finest, huh? You should fire the poor sod that makes your uniforms, hehe."

I know, insulting the authorities is a horrifyingly bad move but I mean look at them! _Beam me up, Scotty!_

"Right, like you're one to talk", says the officer to the right, a blonde man with a nice kind of round face. Not fat just, round. Looks like a happy fellow. He then turns to his colleague with a bit of a smirk.

"Told you, Evans, the old suits at least made us look like _cops_."

Evans, a man with dark hair cut in some pseudo-buzz cut let's out an annoyed grunt at that.

Abe just smiles and motions toward the sofas around the table.

"Please, officers, have a seat. And do try the bourbon as well, son, I'd like to hear what you think about it."

Not one to refuse a drink when offered, I pour myself a glass and raise it toward Abe and the officers.

"Skål då, go' vänner."

They all look at each other questioningly as I raise the glass to my lips. _Huh, det var som fan_.

I put it down again with a satisfied nod.

"You know, Abe. As an old metalhead, I can appreciate this one. It's almost identical to good old Jack Daniels. Bit more bite to it though. Sorry but I'm not used to talking in English so, uhm, the words doesn't come to me naturally…"

"That's all right, son", Abe says with a smile, "I was trying to duplicate that very taste, since they discontinued the production some fifteen years ago, I think."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Wish I was, son. Apparently there were some legal issues as to who would inherit the business and, well, things went south for the whole brand. Not sure how, though."

Evans interrupted us by clearing his throat, obviously just wanting to get it all over with.

"So", Evans continued, bringing up his omni –tool to record the questioning, "we were told that you somehow ended up here on Eden Prime, from _Earth_, without any knowledge as to how that happened. Correct?"

_Right, who pissed in your coffee today, officer Grumpy?_

"Name?", he droned on in a bored voice.

"Isak Falklund"

Evans raised an eyebrow at my name.

"So, what's the last thing you remember?"

"I was going to bed early, since I had to open the store I work at in the morning."

"And where were you? Where do you live?"

"Gothenburg, uhm, Ryttargatan 31. Sweden."

Evans looks something up on his tool. I'm guessing he's checking the address. What he finds however, makes him frown and shoot a suspicious glare my way. _Crap_.

Evans now turns to Abe, who was looking at me with his brows furrowed in thought.

"Would you say that mr Falklund here was… _coherent_ when you found him?"

"I'd say he was. Confused, but, sure. Coherent."

"And he had no possessions on his person, except from his… _clothes_.", Evans added in a more hostile tone.

"No. Look, officers-", the old man started but was rudely interrupted by Evans, "Alright, mr _Falklund_, you're coming with us."

"Hey now, Evans, would it kill you to ask nicely?", the blonde officer says as he stands up.

"Fine. Would you _please_, come with us to the station?", Evans says, replacing insult with venom.

I don't know what his problem is. Maybe his boyfriend dumped him today, who gives a skunks ass about it? So I just finish my bourbon in one drag, give Evans a tired look and get up.

"What else is there to do", I mutter in a voice devoid of hope. I turn towards Abe and the others and give them a smile of gratitude, extending my hand to Abe. He takes it and shakes it with a sympathetic smile.

"Thank you for your hospitality, and the drinks. Here." I start pulling the blanket off me, but Abe stops me.

"Keep it, son. It's a bit nippy outside today", he says with a wink.

And then I'm out the door.

* * *

**Authors' Addendum: It's a slow start but I promise it'll pick up some speed soon.  
And yes, I've a soft spot for drinks. And I'm a douchebag at times, but people seem to like me anyway.  
Next up: Interrogations and Identities.**

***"Jag ger upp!"="I give up!"  
*"Skål då, go' vänner."="Cheers then, good friends."  
*"det var som fan"=(equivalent to) "I'll be damned". (litterally) "That was like the devil".**

***Ryttargatan=(roughly) Riders street**

**Trivia; Falklund is the merging two words, _Falk_ and _Lund_. _Falk_ meaning hawk and _Lund_ meaning grove, so if the name were to be "translated" it would be something along the lines of "Hawkesgrove". Most Swedish names have botanic, animal or landscape references in them. Colour is very unusual in a swedish name. The "son" end is common as well, as in for example "Karlsson" which essentially means "Karls son" or "Son of Karl". The often used "berg" ending(i.e. Forsberg) means "rock" or "mountain" depending on how/where it is used.**


	3. Interrogation And Identities

**Authors' Note: Many thanks to you whom have taken the time to read or even review my fledgling piece!**

**Though I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint by saying this; I cannot promise regular updates. Simply too much stuff going on now.**

**Thought you people at least deserved some honesty. I'll try my hardest to have this updated at a minimum of once a week in the future.  
**

* * *

The ride in to the station had been uneventful. Evans and his blonde partner, whose name I later learned was McCullough, had basically just scanned me in every possible way their omni-tools could. Which was fine by me since it allowed me to take a closer look at Eden Prime. Once the initial _damnit-I'm-in-the-Mass-Effect-verse-_shock had passed, I had found the place appealing. It seemed a perfect blend of preserved nature and high-tech development. With towering buildings mixed with frequent pockets of green even inside of the city core. Everything connected by some sort of advanced rail-system that would make infrastructural architects of my time drool shamelessly. Actually, it reminded me of home a little. Huh.

The thought of home turned my thoughts inwards. I should probably miss the place, shouldn't I?

I leant back with a resigned sigh, chair creaking ever so slightly. It wasn't more than a small prickling of homesickness I felt. No traumatic anxiety, longing or feeling of really missing anything important. Instead I felt somewhat… liberated. _Figures_.

The interrogation room, where Evans had insisted it be taken first, was a sterile white story. The only furnishing being three chairs and a table. The table was bolted to the floor. _Charming_. Oh, and there was of course the observation-window-thingy on the wall next to the door. Where I could bet my collected belongings, namely my black shorts with a nice white jolly roger on the front, that Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee was now standing.

Another sigh escaped my lips as my eyes settled on the door, staring blankly. At least I wasn't cuffed.

* * *

Unlike his colleague, McCullough had more or less already decided on what to do with the strange young man that seemed to have just dropped out of the sky. Sixteen years as a cop had honed his 'feel' for things. He was going to help him. An idea which Evans, his junior officer, did not share.

"I'm telling you, we should just lock him up until he comes up positive for something. Metalhead? It's probably some gang on Earth. I'd bet this years' salary that he's just a junkie stowaway. We'd best ship him off to Earth, really, let them deal with it. And let's not even _begin_ talking about what came up in the scans…"

McCullough rewarded Evans with a raised eyebrow and a small frown, which spoke volumes in contrast to his usually jovial demeanor.

"We don't know anything for sure right now, Evans, and a ganger? He doesn't look the type." The blonde officer scratched his stubble absent-mindedly as he spoke. Evans looked as though he was just about to give a rude response, but McCullough interrupted him with a small wave of his hand. "I met my fair share of gangers doing policing in New York. It's all in the eyes. Learn to read those and you can clear a case like this in an afternoon rather than a week."

After a small pause for thought, Evans turned to face his colleague and questioningly inclined his head toward the man in the interrogation room wearing nothing but his small clothes.

"He's just a lost kid", McCullough answered the unspoken question, "But we need to work this out anyway… Ready?"

* * *

I'd been spacing out for at least five minutes, staring at the door, when it suddenly opened. With a jolt I sat up straight, anxious for answers. Or anything, really. Just sitting here waiting until my fate was decided was getting increasingly irritating. McCullough looked his usual, pleasantly easygoing self, offering me a smile and a wink as he came into the room. Evans had a datapad in his hand, and looked somewhere between bored and mildly annoyed. He didn't even look at me as the two sat down in the chairs facing me.

"So", Evans began in a dry, official voice, "you claim that your name is Isak Falklund, correct?"

I blinked a few times at that. _How is my name a problem all of a sudden?_ "Yes?" I replied, somewhat cautiously.

"And you are...", Evans scrolled down his datapad, "22 years old, according to yourself. The scans do not contradict you. Fact, however, does." He finished, putting down the datapad and crossing his arms over his chest. After about half a minute of staring at me with a mean glint in his eyes, Evans gives me a crooked smile.  
McCullough seems content with simply observing my reactions for now.

"So, mr _Falklund_, do you perhaps have Hitler and Lenin tucked away somewhere in there, hmm? How about you tell us your real name, what you did or paid to get that kind of therapy done or maybe just settle for who you _really are_?"

More than a little miffed at this point, I can't help myself. "Not what I call 'em, but if you look closer you'd at least find Bush." I give Evans the most indifferent look I can muster as I say this. The asshole in question immediately drops his superior smirk.  
Before he can continue, however, McCullough steps in.

"Look, kid, this is simple. Impersonating a historical figure is no offense, and since the Townes family hasn't pressed any charges against you for trespassing we aren't going to put you away for anything." He pauses, giving me a moment to let it sink in. "But unless there is some circumstance you haven't divulged yet, you need our help getting sorted. And that's what we intend to do. I can see that you're not a bad kid, maybe a bit rough around edges, but not rotten. Thing is, normally I'd encourage you to drop the act and give us the truth now…" McCullough pauses again, as if giving me a chance to speak up, but then continues as I stay silent. "But then there's the scans… Your DNA is an exact match, and that's no small feat for any geneticist with the scanners we have today, to _the_ Isak Falklund. The poet and philosopher who vanished well over a century ago? Whose writings brought about countless deaths in a conflict that damn near turned into world war 3? 'You' indirectly killed more people than Stalin did…"

McCullough looks at me intently, scanning my face for clues. And I'm frozen in place. This… Is too much to take in.

I don't even notice my mouth was open until I subconsciously snap it shut as I bury my face in the palm of my hands. A heavy, cold feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

"I…", my mouth feels dry as a desert as I try to formulate some kind of answer, "…Don't know what to say… I really _am_ Isak Falklund but I… I was nobody. I mean, sure, I wrote a lot. And I did write lots about my own opinions on politics and how things should be and, well, philosophical stuff. But I wrote that for my own sake! It was just a mess of random writings, a "diary of a madman"-thing! But I couldn't bring myself to do anything with anything I wrote…" Something in McCulloughs look changed as he heard me out, as if something had finally flipped a switch inside his brain. He kept his silence though, and I was too absorbed by my own raving to notice the change.

"… I was a fucking failure for fuck sake! Too damn cowardly to do anything! Even though there were people who encouraged me to take my stuff to a publisher or a magazine I just made excuses. Just let it sit and rot in my desk. I kept complaining about how much I hated my mediocre life and how I wanted to make a difference. Leave a legacy, you know? But I never did anything, I was just too fucking afraid. I thought I'd just get my stuff shredded, get it thrown in my face and get told that I really _was_ a nobody. A nothing. A fucking loser!" I jerked up from the chair, startling both the officers in front of me, and proceeded to pace back and forth, raking my fingers through my hair_. I can't believe this, they have to be lying to me! But why would they?_

"Okay, okay! Easy now, I believe you", McCullough said in as soothing a voice as he could muster.

I didn't hear him though, the frantic beating of my heart drowned out everything. But then it hit me, and I stopped dead in my tracks. I _wasn't_ the cause of it. It wasn't my legacy. Because this was the _Mass effect_ universe. There may have been another me in this universe, but he was not me. I mean, the Mass Effect games couldn't have existed in this universe. But maybe that's what happened? That we somehow switched places? Only I ended up a hundred and… when _was _I exactly?

"Hey", my voice carried much calmer now, though I still felt deeply shaken, "what year is it?"

McCullough thought he was getting through to me, and mouthed an 'it's okay' to Evans whom had inched his hand toward his sidearm. Evans took his hand off his gun, evidently with mild disappointment, judging from his frown.

"It's the year 2183. Welcome to the future." McCullough said with a smile, holding his hand out for me to shake. I take it, and with a relieved grin at that.

"So, what do I have to do to get some clothes, hm? And, ehm, what happens next?"

"We'll fix you up right away, kid. Though there is still the issue of your identity. I believe that _you_ believe that you're who you say you are. You don't seem crazy either, despite your wild tale. And the scans seem to back your words. The easiest solution, the way I see it, is to simply skip the reanimated/time-travelling historic figure part and simply settle with you being a distant relative of Mr. Falklund. We'll make you out to be a stowaway from Omega to the Citadel and on to Eden Prime, and that you were robbed blind, drugged and dumped here. Stranger things _have_ evidently happened. That story would explain a lot of things." McCullough said with a wink.

"You'd actually do that?" I asked, baffled by his offer. He just nodded, smiled, and walked over to the door.

"I'll probably have to lend you my old omni-tool too. It's an old Bluewire but it'll be enough for the bare essentials you'll need." He opened the door, gesturing for me to step out. Before I did though, I decided to be the bigger man. I walked over the Evans, extending my hand. He shook it somewhat reluctantly.

"Thank you both for your help, officers", I said with a genuine, relieved smile. Evans grumbled something semi-unpleasant and walked out. McCullough just winked, urging me through the door. And just like that, my new life had truly begun.

* * *

A week later, and I'm now able to go through my everyday routines without any trouble. Abe called me when my ID was done, which only took four days, and offered me a job at his brewery which really helped me out. Up until then I'd borrowed a few hundred credits from McCullough just to get by. And Evans was teaching me how to use a gun every now and then at a local range. Yeah, I know, never saw that one coming. But he's alright once you get used to his moody way.

Currently I'm staying in a prefab for seasonal workers at the brewery. Right now, though, I'm the only one there. Been that way for three weeks now.

I'm now officially Isak Falklund, and I don't get any trouble for it. Well, McCullough suggested I added a first name so that I would seem more like an actual relative rather than the real deal. So I chose Tiberius. So it's actually _Tiberius_ Isak Falklund now.

I _know_, cheesy as hell, but I always want to have a cool name. May as well get one when the opportunity presents itself. And it serves as an eerie reminder. Tiberius was a reluctant emperor, and I'm apparently a reluctant inspirer of genocide and war.

Even though, strictly speaking, it wasn't my actions that caused them.  
Though I had been browsing through the extranet, searching for anything I could find on that subject. And, much to my dismay, it really makes no practical difference whether it was him or I who held the pen, because we pretty much wrote the same things. He'd been more invested in writing about politics and philosophy, whereas I had written more poetry than he.  
There's no significant difference in what we wrote though, since he just basically wrote down more of our, or mine, _ugh_, I'm a regular Schrödinger's cat these days, line of thought. And it had all caught on because my family had made sure that my poetry was published after my "death". Which apparently got big and led my relatives to compiling, editing and publishing my journal and surviving writings.  
That then in turn got blown out of proportion and some Stalinesque fellow pulled another Hitler back in Sweden and pretty much won this time around. Well, he died, but his successor won the second war which unified Norway, Sweden, Finland and Iceland (!) under one banner. It is currently a pseudo-republic too close to dictatorship for comfort.

I'm not going to go into any details, but it seems my twin in this universe altered the canon of the Mass Effect games quite the bit. Apparently there were two wars that ultimately split the European Union into the Scandinavian (mentioned before) and European Union. Several vicious terrorist groups rose from the ashes of the war. All of which were defeated over the following decades after the war. Except for one, that just seemed to vanish overnight. When I read the name of said group though, I damn near fainted. The name was Eidolon.

It might just be my imagination messing with me, but I hope that _this_ Eidolon isn't connected to the Eidolon I invented for use in fiction back home, what with my being here and all. Because if it is… Let's just say that there'll be trouble. The reason I'm even worried about that though is because I ran into another blast from the past the other day.

I was just doing what I usually did these days. Which was idly wandering the streets of Constant after work, seeing the sights and learning my way around Mass Effect society. And keeping a constant vigil for any rumors of a certain prothean beacon being unearthed. Anyway, I digress. Thing is, I stumbled upon two cops gossiping.

"… heard they're gonna set up shop right over there."

"What the hell? Like we need _them_? A-sec just means trouble will _get_ here."

Wait, _A-sec_? I'd damn near broken my own spine turning around on a dime, trying to eavesdrop for some more information. The gossipy cops went into an elevator though, and it would be kinda suspicious to follow them around. Not to mention unnecessary.

A flick of my wrist later and I was browsing the extranet for 'A-sec'. _Bingo!_

I had poured through the article and cursed loudly.

Aldyne Inventions, another 'fictional'creation of mine, was alive and kicking here in this universe. And every bit as influential as I'd made it out to be in my own writings back home. 'A-sec' being the nickname for Aldyne Defense and Security Services, or A.D.S.S. _Fuck_. That makes a lot of stuff possible here. Like the Imperium. And the Lemurian Reaches. This is all very worrying. _Although_, I thought to myself(in present time), _that might give us a fighting chance against the Reapers, at least if they have the Tartarus cannons rolled out and ready by then_.

My mind was still gone with my own thoughts about that day as I walked into the gun range. Luckily I'd gotten the hang of the basics of using an omni-tool, so now I didn't really need to think about what I did when for instance opening or locking a door or, like now, paying a vending machine.

Tipping the levo-Tupari bottle back, I let out a satisfied little grunt as I let cool refreshment pour down my throat. If you ever find yourself in the ME-verse, try a Tupari. I swear it's the best non-alcoholic drink I've ever had.

"Come here often, missy?" A rough voice calls out behind me. I promptly choke on my Tupari, then swivel around to find myself staring at McCullough's grinning face.

"Damn it, Duncan!", yeah, right, his name is Duncan, "You ruined that Tupari for me. Get me another one!"

"Saved ya more like it, kid. It can't be healthy to chug down entire bottles like you do. Not to mention that your god-awful burping scares away the ladies."

Raising a questioning eyebrow I make a sweeping gesture across the range hall. The _empty_ range hall.

"Thought I saw this brunette by the vendor just now!", Who? Evans, of course. The man in question is already at the holo-range, firing away.  
Duncan chuckles at his colleagues remark while making his way over to the holo-range. I grumble obscenities as I follow, taking the 'booth' on Duncan's right and turning on the holo.

"You have to admit, kid, hair like yours is kinda strange on a guy these days. Anyways, I've got something new for ya today, though you might want to try it."

I poke my head around to have a look at what he's talking about. And my eyes almost literally sparkle so much with excitement that even Disney would feel sickened at the sight. Duncan flashes me a grin, handing over a shotgun and what looks like a folded sniper rifle. This is going to be _fun_.

* * *

**Authors' Addendum:**

**Not much to add, really. Yet another slow chapter, but it'll pick up. Just need to get the basics squared away.**

**Aldyne Inventions is a fictional megacorporation originating from Earth. Its sub-branches are Aldyne Exploration and the aforementioned A.D.S.S.**

**As for what the Imperium and Eidolon is, you'll notice soon enough. **

**And the Lemurian Reaches are the systems around the by Eidolon covertly activated Lemur relay sitting on the border between the Traverse and the Terminus. It is home to the Imperium. That is a well-kept secret in this version of the ME-verse.**

**Next chapter: Chief In Range**


	4. Chief In Range

**Authors' Note: **

**First off; sorry for the long wait. I've taken some advice and made a few-but significant- changes to this fiction. Though some obviously can't fight their inner troll, feedback is feedback. So thanks for viewing and reviewing. It is very much appreciated. **

**And no, Bioware, there will be no more disclaimers. I don't make a habit of repeating myself.**

**Now on to the story.**

* * *

Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams walked through the doors to the local gun range. She'd come here every now and then, just to make sure she wasn't getting rusty.  
So far her assignments had been little more than glorified guard-duty on various colonies. As frustrating as that was for the driven young woman, she'd resigned herself to her fate long ago. Being a Williams in the Alliance, it would still be an accomplishment if she topped out at gunnery Chief.

It was a nice break, coming to the range, blowing off some steam. Usually she'd be the only one here except from the odd police officer coming to brush up on their aim. Today was different though. Not that she was here _every _day, but the moment she entered it felt as if she'd stepped through the wrong door. The first thing to grab her attention was the music. Loud, fast drums pumped like machineguns, accompanied by the gritty roar of electric guitars. She stood still blinking in confusion for a second. _That's…odd_, she thought to herself. Shaking her head, she walked over to the counter, nodding to the owner of the range who also happened to be the only staff working there.

The man in question, a greying, wiry man, smiled at her and walked over to the locked gun rack as soon as he spotted her.

"The usual, Chief?" he called out, rummaging through the different guns of various shapes and sizes.

"Yup." She answered. As the old man proceeded to place a sniper rifle, an assault rifle and a handgun on the counter. Her impatient nature got the best of her however, and she found herself compelled to ask. "So. What's up with the, uhm, music?" She asked, pointing toward the speakers mounted overhead.

At first, the old man seemed to not understand the question. Then it dawned on him.

"Ooh! You mean that? Sorry, Chief, it's the new customer. Kid likes his music old." The owner chuckled good-naturedly with his dry old voice. "Want me to turn it off for you, Chief? It's no bother, really."

She shook her head as she gathered up her guns. "It's fine, leave it on." As distracting as it was, it might actually be good for her practice, she mused to herself.  
She found herself curious about this 'new customer' though, and scanned the hall as she made her way to her usual booth.

Looking around she didn't immediately spot anything different aside from the antiquated music. She saw two men she recognized from her previous visits to range.  
Both were police officers, judging from their uniforms. They'd usually keep to themselves, and she'd never traded more than a handful of words with them.  
Neither seemed the type to be into this kind of music.

_Boom_. The loud retort of a sniper round rang out, followed by a whoop from the booth on the far side of the officers from where Williams was standing.

The dark haired one of the officers snorted loudly. "Lucky shot!"

"The hell it was, Evans! That's the third one aced. In what, five shots?" An unfamiliar voice responded. It had a rumbling depth to it, despite the obvious youthful tone.

"Six, don't kid yourself, that's luck. Ya know? I might shut up just to be nice if you'd just cut that god-awful _noise_ out!"

Despite Evans unfriendly remark, the unfamiliar voice just chuckled.

"How can you _not_ love this? _You're gonna learn the hard way, that the world don't wanna be saved!_" The owner of the unfamiliar voice had hung out his head from his booth, making some odd gesture with his hand while singing along with the song playing. His 'tough' display was interrupted rather abruptly by a loud _boom._ The instant it rang out, he was catapulted towards the floor with a comically surprised look on his face.

"… _Ow_. That hurt." The other officer, a blonde man, ran over to the unknown man with a worried look.

"You okay? You hurt?"

"I'm fine." The young, still unknown, man grunted. "Damn thing went off in my hand, gave me a good knocking." He brushed his long, chestnut hair away from his face, displaying a goofy grin. "Did I hit anything?"

Williams couldn't help herself. The laughter she'd held in erupted. The men looked up in surprise, then at each other. Then the two officers looked at the young man, bending over laughing as well.

"Yeah, yeah, real funny guys."

"Oh, come on Tibbs", Evans said as he got his amusement under control, "that _was_ funny."

'Tibbs' shot Evans a nasty look. "I fucking hate that name man..."

"That's why I'm usin' it."

Evans walked back into his booth, still snickering as he went. Tibbs got up, shaking his head as he brushed himself off.

He was tall, Williams noticed, and a lot bigger than she'd expected from hearing his voice or judging from his seemingly immature attitude. Intrigued, she scanned him further, curiosity taking priority. He was wearing grey cargo pants, the type most dockworkers used, and a black tank top. Two tattoos were visible, one just beneath his right shoulder, on his upper arm. Another on the inside of his left wrist. She estimated them both to be around a decimeter in size. She found his hair to be his most odd feature, being longer than hers even, reaching down to just beneath the young man's shoulder blades. Had he not been as bulky as he was, or having the features he had, the hair would have made him look feminine, as it seemed to get naturally wavier the further down it reached.

The young man seemed to not have taken notice of her, and had proceeded to walking back towards his booth, shrugging off his wounded pride. Williams was now way too curious to just let it all slide. After all, on quiet and calm Eden Prime, entertainment was scarce. She gathered up her guns again and walked over to the booth next to Tibbs.

* * *

The little scene with the misfiring still had me grumbling when I got back to shooting. Lining up the next shot, I'd barely taken notice of the woman walking past my booth and settling in the one on my right. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. As I did so, I opened my eyes, drew a bead on the bright yellow hologram target, and fired. My pride recuperated significantly as I was awarded with the distinct _ping_ signaling a hit in the inner circle of the target.

"Nice shot. Mind if I give you a few pointers, Tibbs, was it?" A female voice rang out behind me.

Damnit. Ever since Evans came up with it, that name had stuck with everyone I knew here on Eden Prime. Those weren't many, but it still annoyed me to no end. The woman's mentioning of it threw my next shot off balance, sending it above the entire holographic target. I wasn't bad for a beginner, but a shot like that was embarrassing.

"Preferably _not_. Not while you're calling me 'Tibbs', anyway." I was glad that my English had improved over the month I'd spent here. Practice makes perfect, no? couldn't do much about my accent though.

I set my rifle down, turning to face the woman. _Military_, was the first thing that crossed my mind. Everything about the woman practically _screamed_ soldier. She looked good enough, though. Kind of hard to place though. Dark haired, brown eyes. Features kind of a mix of things. Probably a 'half-breed' like myself. She might have some Latino mixed with, well, something, in her.

Now, you probably might think _gee, is he dense_ by now. But thing is, a game is a game. Reality doesn't really compare. And the chances of me actually meeting _Ashley Williams_ here are… Well, okay, not that remote. But still, I sure as hell wasn't expecting it. So you might understand my late reaction.

"So what'll it be then? Tibbins?" She asked, placing a hand on her hip.

"Falklund, actually. First name's Tiberius and Evans here have a shitty sense of humor so, yeah. But, ah, just call me Isak. I don't use 'Tiberius' all that much. Unless I'm signing something, he."

"Soo, Tiberius Isak Falklund then? That's an unusual name."

"Well, I'm Swedish so, yeah. I'm guessing you're American, right?" I'd started smiling subconsciously by now. The woman in front of me seemed like a really nice one. And I'm a bit of an 'act first, think later' kind of guy so…

"Really? Well, I don't know about that. I grew up pretty much everywhere. Name's Williams by the way, Ashley Williams." She said, extending her hand with a smile. And that's when it hit me. _The Ashley Williams?!_ In my typical unthinking way, I reacted instantly.

"Det var som fan…" I exclaimed in a dazed voice.

"Beg your pardon?" Williams said with a tinge of laughter at my expression in her voice.

I mentally facepalmed myself. _Real smooth, man._

"Nothing. Ehm, so. Ashley then? Or do you prefer Williams?" I said nervously, trying hard not to stumble over my own words.

"Ash, Ashley just feels weird. So, want me to show you a few tricks? I'm with the Alliance garrison here, so you could say I know my way around guns."

"Sure, absolutely!" I couldn't contain the excitement in my voice. Ashley chuckled a little, then surveyed the weapons I had in my booth. She then gave me a curious look, raising an eyebrow.

"Sniper and shotgun? That's an unusual combination. Most tend to go for either or. Or they settle for the assault rifle. Kind of like how people are either good with science or social studies, you know?"

"What can I say?" I grinned. "I'm an unusual guy."

"No kidding. So, I have to ask, what's up with _that_?" Ashley pointed to the nearest speaker as she asked.

"Ah. _That_, my friend, is the greatest form of art ever made by man. It's called…" I smiled and paused for effect. "…_Metal._"

"Art, my ass." Evans grumbled from his booth.

"Oh, you'll eat that. Hey! Turn on number fourteen, please!"

The owner of the range obliged, and _If You Don't Like Rock n' Roll_ by Rainbow started playing. Evans muttered something sounding like 'god, make it stop' over in his booth. Whereas I grinned like an idiot. A _proud_ idiot. Ashley actually _giggled_. Cutest sound I'd ever heard, that.

"Alright, let's see how you handle the shotgun."

* * *

We spent the next, well. I'd say an hour but I lost track of time pretty fast. Ashley was really fun to hang out with, and she taught me a lot. When I told her that I had never fired a shotgun or sniper rifle before today, she was dumbstruck. The only previous practice I'd had with guns was some eight hours of pistol practice here with Evans and McCullough. Well, that and the fact that I'd had an air gun basically _glued_ to my hand when I was a kid. Tons of hours of video gaming should not be underestimated either. In her own words, I was a natural. Until she let me try the assault rifle that is. It's, well. Just not my kind of weapon it seems. I didn't _suck_ with it, but I sure as shit wasn't a natural with that one. Guess I'd never go much further than _spray and pray_ with the assault rifle.

Anyways, after a good long while of shooting, we decided to give it a rest. I didn't have the money to spend hours on end daily at the range anyway. McCullough and Evans had gone some thirty minutes ago.

"Well, it's been fun, Ash. We should do this again some time."

Ash simply smiled and nodded. Then looked as though a thought crossed her mind. "Ever thought about joining up, Falk? You've got talent, and a decent enough physique."

"_Decent_, huh? Well, yes and no. I've thought about joining up, but I'm just not sure I'm soldier material."

We turned in our weapons to the owner. The handgun was mine, but I didn't have a license so I wasn't allowed to carry a gun outside a range. Logically I shouldn't be able to _buy_ one either but the gun regulations on Eden Prime were a bit strange. At least by Swedish standards. American, not so much perhaps, can't say I know for sure.

"I used to be a fat guy, mind you."

"Really? So how'd you do it?" She asked curiously.

"Loose weight? I'm told I've got my grandfather's genes, which are damned good apparently. But if you don't exercise at all and stuff yourself with all kinds of things without thinking, well…" I fell quiet, musing about the issue for a bit to myself. "I basically did a lot of unhealthy stuff early on. I started drinking when I was thirteen for one. Had my first blackout at fourteen. Smoked whenever I drank at parties at stuff. Didn't get addicted to either of it though. Why I can't say, I've just never felt that addictive _urge_ people talk about. I could go months without even thinking of drinking or smoking when I was older so… yeah."

"So?"

"Oh, well I started going to the gym every other day basically. Cut back on the drinking and smoking a little too. But that's basically it. No diets, no nothing."

"Huh." Ashley didn't elaborate, leaving me somewhat puzzled as to her thoughts about it.

"So", She continued after a minute of silence, "guess you've got issues with authority, that about right?"

"Good guess. Comes from having a bloody nazi for a mother I guess, hehe. That aside, I've always been a bit of a black sheep. Not sure I'd fit in with the 'rank and file' types in the Alliance."

Now it was my turn to give her a curious look. I'd been fairly open about myself while we'd talked. I left out the specifics of course, since they'd expose my, hrm, _unique_ background. She on the other hand, hadn't really said anything substantial about herself. She was an Alliance marine stationed here and had moved a lot when growing up because her father had been Alliance too. Which, of course, I already knew. She hadn't said much else about herself though, and since I knew a lot about her already I hadn't thought about asking. I turned to her with a lopsided smile.

"So, any galaxy-altering revelations you can share about yourself? Or is it all hush-hush with you?" _Oh, the irony._

"What?" She looked up at me quizzically.

"Well, you haven't really told me much about yourself." I pointed out.

"Oh. Not much to tell really. Nothing fancy. Been a soldier too long perhaps, hehe."

Well, I happen to _know_ that you have a soft spot for poetry, among other things, so don't you give me the 'oh, I'm nothing special' treatment here, miss Williams.  
I gave her my best 'oh really?' face.

"So there's nothing? No hobbies, no nothing? Come _on_. There's got to be something?"

"Well…" She started, but then shook her head as if dismissing the thought.

"Come on, tell me already! You what, collect garden gnomes? Dolls? _Stamps_?"

"What? _No_." She laughed. "I read poetry. There, I said it. The big, badass marine has a soft side, okey? Just deal with it."

She pouted a little as I chuckled, which only made me laugh instead. I mean, come on. Ashley williams _pouting_. That's just priceless. Ashley started walking faster, where to I had no clue, I just went along.

"Hey, hey, slow down!" I snickered on. "That's a _good_ thing. It's cute. Besides, that means we can combine our interests."

Ashley gave me a quizzical look at that, silently asking me to explain.

"I write poetry. Have been since I was about 16, I think."

Now I noticed where she'd been heading, as we stepped up to a diner. Which apparently was frequented by the soldiers stationed here, judging from the customers I could see through the window.

"Hold that thought", she said as we walked up to the counter, "Hi Marty, give me a cup of coffee. Black. No sugar. And todays special."

"Coming right up, Chief." 'Marty' merrily answered. "And what will you have, sir?"

"I, uhm. I'll have a cup of tea. Vanilla. With sugar. And that'll be about it."

A 'take seat and I'll bring it to ya' later and we're sitting in a booth by the window on the left side of the entrance. It was a cozy enough place. We didn't say much for a few minutes. Contently sipping from our respective drinks, spacing out through the window. Since I already 'knew' Williams, I felt comfortable sitting like this. What surprised me however, was that _she_ was this comfortable with _my_ company. That thought brought me back from outer space rather abruptly. Before I managed to formulate a good, non-revealing, question to her, Ashley piped up.

"So, how about that poetry you were talking about? Got anything I can read now?"

For obvious reasons, my collection of over three hundred poems accumulated over six years was gone. I'd managed to write a few down from memory though.  
As well as having written a few new ones. Changing dimensions can be inspiring to say the least. I opened up my omni-tool and started roaming through my meager collection for anything good. I finally found something that wasn't my usual dark and foreboding.

"Here, take a look at this" I sent it over to her, but she didn't open her tool. Instead she rested her elbows on the table, placing her chin in the palms of her hands.

"You read it." She said with a smile.

"Ehm, okay. I'm not used to reading them out loud though, hrm-hrm." Suddenly very nervous, I settled for looking at the holographic screen projected by the 'tool.  
Looking at her while reading this would just be way too… intimate, in a way. Poetry is usually written with the heart, you know? And I'm not big on letting people in on my thinking and feeling. No matter how close they are to me.

I cleared my throat again and started reading.

"_I dream of a place_

_Where I can see your face_

_Where I can be where you are_

_My unknown love, my hope and star_

_Savagely it rends my heart_

_To know that we'll always be apart_

_Yet there is no mistaking that which I feel_

_To my heart, you are anything but unreal"_

A sudden urge to sink through the ground struck me as I finished. I dared a nervous glance up at Ashley through the curtain of my hair. Her smile had become more…sweet, I guess.

"I liked it. Got another one?"

"Uhm, yeah. Sure." I repeated the same motion as before, sending the poem to her tool. She just shifted one of her hands a little, extending her index finger toward me with a smile. _Crap_.

Oh well, here goes.

"_Her laughter echoes in my mind;_

_This heavy head crowned with tears_

_The touch of her skin still burn my fingers;_

_These weavers of shadow and fire which lingers_

_Her gaze rend my heart still;_

_This fiery chasm only hell can fill_

_The spectre of her presence still haunt me;_

_Singing the requiem of what we couldn't be_

_With her I came to find;_

_That she holds all my love and all my fears_

_I am a dark soul, you know_

_Dragged down so deep, so low_

_But such is the road of this chosen one;_

_To be as though a shadow fallen in love with the sun_

_How I wished for our fates not to make us part_

_Yet my longing reach never touched her heart_

_And I knew that I could never leave my throne_

_For the bear the weight of doom is to be alone_

_I weigh this nightmarish mask in my hands;_

_Brushing from my shoulders temporal sands_

_An iron crown to adorn an iron will_

_Yet this love I remain unable to kill"_

I was a little disappointed to see her smile had disappeared when I looked up at her again. Though, given the contents of the poem, I couldn't blame her. I anxiously waited for her comment.

"Hm." Was all she said. _Come on!_

"'Hm' as in _that sucked_, or what?" I asked with a cautious smirk.

"No, it was good. But I liked the first one better. This one was a bit too dark for my taste." She answered a little slower, brows furrowed in a thoughtful expression.

"Well, you'll be disappointed to know then, that I tend to err on the dark side. There are a _few_ that stick out from the norm but usually they're kind of 'moody'. They say that the best inspiration comes from misery of some sort."

"I've heard that too. A shame though."

"Well, there are of course the 'exceptions that make the rule' as we say in Sweden but, still." I fell silent for a bit, lost in thought. Ashley was amusing herself with drilling holes in my head with her eyes, it would seem.

"Maybe I'll write you one some day." I smiled at her and leaned back in my seat. I was rewarded with another one of those sweet smiles.

We spend another two hours at the diner, and now she opened up a bit more about herself. I didn't learn much more about her than what I already knew from the games. However, It's different when you're not hearing it summed up in short in-game dialogue, but instead get to really _talk_ about it. I had a good time, and since she gave me her contact info and agreed to do this whole thing again next Saturday, so did she.

As I slumped down on my bed that night, I was still trying to wrap my head around it. I had basically spent the day with _the_ Ashley Williams. Fucking unreal is what it is. And to find that she was so, well, just _nice_. I drifted off to sleep with a smile, utterly satisfied with my day.

* * *

**Authors' Addendum:**

**Since I remodeled the story, I decided to present the character like this. It's flawed, but it works.**

**And you may be glad to know that the slow chapters devoid of action are over. **

**There will be blood in the next one.**

**Oh, and the quote/singalong is from the song _Blitzkrieg Witchcraft_ by The Crown.**

**Next chapter; To Awaken In War**


	5. To Awaken In War

**Authors' Note:**

**Replaying ME2 led to discovering that a piece of canon conflicted with my own plotwork. And since my plotwork is intended to **_**add**_** to the ME-verse rather than replacing it, I had to make some changes. Again. Sorry for messing up your read but you'll have to bear with me on this one. **

**The "Nemean Abyss" already existed, not as I had envisioned it, but it did. So I changed the name of my creation to the Lemurian Reaches (a handful of systems within reasonable FTL travelling distance of the Lemur relay). It'll be a while before it comes into play, but it will be mentioned before that so I had to get that squared away.**

**Anyways, enjoy the continuation of my fiction!**

* * *

This was not a good morning. I could tell right away. I'd woken up, much earlier than I usually do and completely on my own, and was now sitting at the small table in the prefab out on the Townes's property. Which was weird because I usually sleep like a rock when I'm having the day off. It all felt distinctly _wrong_. The whole setup.  
Sitting here eating breakfast, watching the red blossom of the morning sun coloring the skies above Eden Prime. Without having to go to work in twenty-something minutes.

Tapping the spoon against the edge of my bowl of cereal, I felt a frustration building in me. With a sigh, I got up and put the bowl in the sink. A cigarette later and the frustration was still growing, becoming a tense, restless knot in my gut.

_Damnit_. I hated feeling like this. I don't like stress. Or rushing. Especially when I don't need to and I'm just doing it because… _why am I doing it?_

Come to think of it, I recognize the feeling. It's like one of those days when you just wake knowing, right off the bat, that something is _wrong_. Or about to go fubar.  
And you don't know why, so you just sit around all tense until it blows up from under you.

I tried to reason my way out of the situation for a while, and the more I thought about it, the less the feeling made sense. I had everything going for me here.  
I had a job, with a decent pay. Relatively better than I'd had before ending up in this universe, actually. And I had a swell time with Ashley 'smoking' Williams the day before yesterday. She'd even sent me a few messages since then. I brought the latest up again on my 'tool, idly pouring through it;

_From: Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams_

_To: Tiberius Falklund_

_Hey there!_

_I'm on a boring patrol, mind sending me something to read? If you're comfortable with that, of course._

_I thought a bit about Saturday, and I think we should just have a drink over at Martys instead. If you're not _really_ into shooting something. Or if you've got something better in mind, I'm open to suggestions._

_Have a good one!_

_Ash_

With a smile, I closed my 'tool and got up, deciding to spend some time at the shooting range today after all. Maybe tearing up some targets would put my mind to rest?

I took the monorail into Constance. Which I regretted after less than two minutes on the car. I felt way too on edge to sit still. I actually got some stares from the other passengers as I paced about. What the hell was up with me today?

Fourteen agonizingly boring minutes later and I'm walking up the street leading up toward the range. The sense of having forgotten something had by then turned from a nagging sensation to a mental pneumatic drill hammering away at my temples._ Damnit, I'm gonna give myself a headache going on like this_.

Something _was_ off about today though. Then I hear it. Explosions and gunfire rang out in the distance. And there was the every odd person rushing past me, making both me and others around me throwing puzzled glances after them.

Suddenly, the skies take on a blood red color, and a massive shape descends from it in a flurry of unnatural red lightning and thunder. It lands a good distance away from where I am, but there is still a slight tremor as it touches down.

Its towering form is still unbelievably huge even from where I stand. The horizon seems to come ablaze as streaks of red starts to erupt from the monstrous ship, reducing the buildings near it to dust, rubble and molten, twisted metal.

My hands fly up instinctively, protecting my eyes as Sovereign, the one and only, vaporizes an eezo stockpile near the commercial dock. It goes up in a tremendous blue and red conflagration, likely killing everyone on said dock. Stunned and numb with realization, I smack my fist into the palm of my hand.

"_That's_ what I forgot!" I stand rooted to the ground by a mix of stupidity and horror before my brain starts working again. _Okey, think! Act!_ Well, the commercial dock is out. That leaves two more spaceports. The privately owned one, and the Alliance port. The privately owned one belongs to Aldyne but is still under construction. That leaves the Alliance one. And since Mass effect canon had Shepard run a geth-lined gauntlet to the spaceport to find the prothean beacon, I reckon that the beacon is at the Alliance port. It makes sense they would have moved in to grab it as soon as it was unearthed.

As if my thoughts had conjured them, dozens of geth dropships passed overhead, heading toward the Alliance port on the other side of Constance. More or less back the way I came. Which meant that Abe and the Townes gang were toast.

"Fan!" I shouted, dashing unthinkingly toward the gun range. In the words of Master Chief; I need a weapon.

* * *

**3 hours later, Eden Prime.**

The three grey-clad figures moved quickly through the rural, undeveloped area in the outskirts of Eden Prime. Not a single word passed their lips, two men and one woman, as they slipped through otherwise seldom travelled paths. Every now and then they'd pass a burnt or mangled body.

One of the men seemed greatly unsettled by it, gripping his assault rifle tighter for every broken body they passed.

"My God, what happened here?" He asked out loud in a weak voice laced with disbelief.

The woman leading the trio threw a glance over her shoulder at the man, brows creased.

"You alright there, Jenkins?"

"Yeah, I-I will be. Ma'am. It's just… seeing it like this. It's my home, you know?"

The sounds rolling at the trio from the distant city itself intensifying the feeling of being dropped in the middle of a warzone. Which, in most senses of the word, happened to be true to the situation. The woman let out a barely noticeable sigh.

"I need you to stay focused now, okey? Can you do that, Private?" Her voice was stern, but compassionate.

"Y-Yes, will do, Commander!"

The other man, dark haired and seemingly older, gave Jenkins a reassuring pat on the back. Minutes later, they came up on a clearing. In front of them was a stretch of land punctuated by rocks and larger boulders. To their front the ground kept going perhaps ten to twelve meters, ending abruptly in a steep drop down the cliffs. Their left wasn't much better, a couple of trees and then the same lethal drop. The only way forward seem to go right, up a hill littered with rock formations of various shapes and sizes until it evened out into a row of large-growing trees. They stopped for a brief moment, surveying the area. It was quiet. No signs of movement or possible enemies.

The Commander gestured at Jenkins to move up the hill. That's when she heard it, a faint hum that her trained ear immediately placed. Then it all happened in a blur. Two drones of a sleek, alien design hovered into view, immediately spotting Jenkins and turning to open fire.

_Boom_. One rifle round rang out, and the hailstorm of bullets the three marines expected from the drones were reduced to a handful of rounds only managing to take out Jenkins shields as one of the drones promptly _exploded_. The force of the blast sending the other drone into the nearest boulder, rendering it defunct.

The marines didn't waste any time, as the tell-tale humming of more drones came toward them. They all dashed further up the hill, finding ample cover among the rocks. The drones now flew into a prepared kill zone, as the three marines opened fire, assault rifles rattling away their lethal message. In a matter of seconds, the drones were reduced to scrap metal.

The Commander made a quick 'hold' signal with her hand, eyes roaming the hills for another enemy, or for that matter, a sign of the unknown shooter. The hills were quiet though, and they couldn't afford the delay.

"Move up, but keep your eyes peeled, people."

A duo of 'aye, aye, ma'am' later and they were moving over the hill, slipping from tree to tree. Suddenly the radio crackled to life.

"_I've got some burned out buildings here, Shepard. A lot of bodies. I'm going to check it out, I'll try to catch up with you at the dig site."_ A flanged voice reported.

"Alright, we need to pick up the pace. I've got a bad feeling about all of this, and I don't like it that Nihlus is out there on his own, Spectre or not."

"We're right behind you, Commander." The dark haired marine assured her with Jenkins silently nodding in agreement, still visibly shaken from his brush with death.

Their respite didn't last long though, as the sounds of combat erupted ahead. Not wanting to rush in blindly, the Commander motioned for a silent approach, swapping her assault rifle for the sniper rifle on her back as she went.

Crouching into cover behind the mossy trunk of a tree, she surveyed the battlefield through her scope.

A female marine clad in white and red armor was trapped by a handful of mechs. _No_. _Those aren't mechs_. The Commander thought to herself. No matter. They were obviously hostiles.

She drew a bead on one of the alien synthetic foes, and squeezed the trigger. The synthetic was sent flying backwards from the sheer force of the round, but it was not a killing shot. The metal structure it impacted with however, finished the job. The structure toppled over, and the man whom for some vile reason had been impaled upon said structure, now slid off the spike as it toppled. Hitting the ground with a wet thud.

She dodged back into cover, waiting for her rifle to cool down. As she did so, her fellow marines popped out of cover, spraying the synthetics with assault rifle fire. One of the synthetics went down with numerous holes perforating its metallic chest. That left three, and they marched up toward the red and white-clad marine with relentless determination.

The Commander leaned out again, sending another sniper round crashing into a synthetic head with deadly accuracy. The covering fire provided from her team had withered down its shields enough for her shot to smash clean through the synthetics 'eye'. That left two. And they were about to round the lone marines cover.

Throwing caution to the wind, the Commander let another sniper round follow, overheating her weapon but sending another synthetic rolling downhill, depleting its shields and knocking its weapon out of its machine grasp. But the last synthetic had already reached the lone marine, and judging from what mere drones of this alien make had done to their shields before, the female marine wouldn't stand a chance up close.

The plentiful air the commander had inhaled in order to yell for covering fire, puffed out of her in silent surprise at the sudden change in the scenario before her.

A large, humanoid figure had leaped down from the hills to her right, and now dashed with reckless abandon toward the synthetic still standing. The synthetic, utterly focused on its current target, didn't seem to understand the danger before it was too late. The large human bellowed out a savage, guttural war cry as he grasped the synthetic by its head.  
The human then used his momentum and weight to slam the synthetic 'face' first into the ground, immediately shifting his grip to its wrist after they hit the ground.  
With a snapping motion, he brought its arms back as far as they would go on their own, then pressed them forward over its head in an angle that the synthetic was clearly not designed to do. A brute, primal strength seemed at work in the man.  
It struggled, in its own dumb machine way, but to no avail as the snarling human on top of it 'broke' its arms at its shoulders. For a brief few seconds the human sat still on top of the writhing synthetic. Back heaving with every heavy, labored breath. His face obscured by his long hair, dirty and wet with sweat and the same silvery fluid that 'bled' from the synthetics.

Then, he furiously grabbed the synthetic by the back of its head, stood up, and proceeded to slam its head repeatedly into the stone formation the female marine had used for cover. After shattering the synthetics lone, glowing eye he seemed to calm down.

The mechanical stuttering sound behind him, however, sent him into another fit of rage as he dashed back. The synthetic previously thrown back and disarmed by the Commanders' shot was now on its feet and scrambling for the nearest gun. But before it could get to one of its fallen comrades to arm itself, the large human tackled it straight into its midsection. As his speed and momentum kept him barreling forward, he swung out violently upwards with one arm, striking the synthetic and sending it flying over him. He skidded to a halt, brought forth a shotgun and unfolded it, flung the strap over his shoulder and proceeded to blast round after round into the synthetic as he marched up to it, roaring at the top of his lungs.

The synthetic was a pile of smoking, twisted metal when his shotgun overheated, forcing him to stop his fit of rage. With an exhausted expression, he hung the now folding shotgun over his shoulder again, and trotted off toward the hill he'd come from.

Grunting and cussing, he made his way up again. The Commander and her two marines came down to the female marine. No one spoke though, silently communicating disbelief to each other with their eyes. Then the large man appeared again, sliding down the hill and walking up to them, now carrying a sniper rifle in his arms. He leaned heavily against the stone cover, closing is eyes tiredly for a moment before opening them again. The man, looking a lot younger than the Commander had initially thought, turned his head toward the female marine.

"You okay, Ash?" He said, offering a weak smile deprived of joy.

"I'm fine." The red and white clad marine answered. "Or… No. I'm fine. You?"

"No, you're not. And no, _I'm_ not. I'm tired and sore as hell. And the Townes are dead, Ash. Abe, Kate, Kyle… Gone. These fucking clankers put them on those spikes and killed them." He closed his eyes again, resting his head against the stone.

'Ash' placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze and nodding in understanding.

"I'm sorry, Isak." She said softly. Isak, as his name was, simply patted her hand giving her a hollow-eyed smile of gratitude.

"You're welcome, by the way." He added with a weak smirk, motioning with the butt of his rifle toward Jenkins.

The Commander, now woken from her baffled state, stepped forward intent on reigning in the situation and getting on with the mission.

"Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy, I'm sorry to be brusque about this but we're on an important mission and time is _not_ on our side here. We need to get to the Prothean beacon unearthed here recently; do any of you know where it is? And are you both alright, by the way?" Shepard inquired in an authoritative voice, adding the last question almost as an afterthought.

Ashley snapped to attention immediately. Isak apparently thought that opening one weary, blood-shot eye was enough of a courtesy.

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams with the 212, I take it you're the one in charge here, ma'am?"

"I am. What can you tell me about the attack?

"We were patrolling the perimeter when the attack hit. We tried to get off a distress call, but they cut off our communications. I've been fighting for my life ever since." Ashley said in a tired voice laced with a thin, barely noticeable layer of pain.

"Where's the rest of your squad?" Shepard asked. Her voice but a fraction softer.

"We tried to double back to the beacon, but we walked into an ambush. I don't think any of the others… I think I'm the only one left." Ashley hung her head, ending her sentence a little quieter than she'd started it.

"Don't blame yourself, Williams, this isn't your fault. Do you know what kind of enemy we're facing?"

"They're geth, obviously." Isak rudely butted his way into the conversation. "And since the only thing valuable on 'Prime is that damn prothean beacon, I'd say that that's what they're after."

The others all turned to look at him with sudden intrigue.

"And just how would a _civilian_ know any of these things? Or even be able to fight these geth? Because I sincerely doubt you're with the marines here." The dark haired male marine asked, rather tersely. Glaring at the long haired young man with a great deal of suspicion.

"Easy, Kaidan, He did give us cover back there. That was you, right? The sniper?" Shepard asked, raising her hand in a calming gesture toward Kaidan.

"Yeah, that was me. Been spending the last hour or so doing that. Sniped one clanker here and there, sneaking away before they could find me. Happy to help, anyway. As for why I 'know' these things… Well I have a functioning brain and I can read. That's all I need to make a conclusion here. Geth are machines, they don't sack colonies.  
That's more what I'd expect from the batarians. As far as I can see it they'd only attack for two reasons. One, this is an invasion. And two, they're after some specific piece of tech. I'm hoping for the latter."

Shepard and Kaidan both contemplated this for a brief moment, then gave each other a look and a nod in silent agreement.

"We need to get to that beacon, and quickly, can either of you take us there?"

"Absolutely, ma'am."

"You sure you're alright? No wounds, nothing broken?"

"I'm alright Commander, ready and able."

Shepard then turned to Isak, firing off questions in the same militaristic, hurried manner.

"You were up on those hills, what can you tell me of the surroundings?"

"Well, this path here runs all the way up to the docks and through what I assume is the dig site where they unearthed that beacon. Saw some weird-looking ruins there at least. After the ruins, going from here, there are some prefabs. For the researchers working the site I'd guess. There are about a dozen or so colonists impaled on those spikes over there though…" Isak furrowed his brows and looked down, shaking his head in disgust, as if remembering something he'd rather forget. "The thing about those spikes is that they… turn people. They're processed in some way. When they're 'done' the spikes retract and lets them go. Thing is, once they're down, they attack anything in sight." He continued with a disgusted grimace on his face." They're dumb as dirt, and as long as you don't have any shields and they're not too many they are easy kills. Thing is, they can emit some kind of pulse, which they seem to use if their target has some kind of shielding. It zaps your shields and delivers one hell of a shock. It's not a nice way to go. So getting swarmed is not an option there."

Hearing this explanation, something dawned on Ashley.

"So, the Townes?" She asked with worry, as if not really wanting to hear the answer.

Isak just looked at her. His lips becoming a thin, tense line as he nodded grimly.

"They'd been turned. I had to… You know…"

"Look, I'm sorry for your losses, really, but we have to hurry." Shepard looked to both of them, then continued.

"Williams, I'd like your help here…"

"Aye, aye, Ma'am! Time to get some payback."

"And I could use your aim. Mister?"

"Falklund."

"Huh, I see. I'm thinking you should probably get up on those hills again and cover us from there; I imagine you don't have a shield generator on you?" Isak simply shook his head in reply. "Alright, I'll give you access to our comm through your omni-tool. Remember to keep feeding us info as we go along. You'll be our eyes in the skies here, got that?"

Isak pushed himself off the rock and gripped his rifle with renewed purpose. With a lopsided grin he threw a sloppy salute.

"Uppfattat!"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, sorry, it means 'acknowledged' in the old tongue."

Shepard couldn't help but feel intrigued, and studied him briefly before motioning with her rifle toward the hills.

"Well, get going, soldier!" She was rewarded with a boyish grin from Falklund before he lumbered off. She had a hard time imagining the young man as stealthy enough to avoid the geth all this time. She only hoped that her putting him out of the line of fire would guarantee his safety.

Then she, Ashley, Kaidan and Jenkins took off. Judging from the Chiefs' conversation with the young sniper, Falklund and her were friends. So Shepard felt compelled to ask;

"So what did he mean by 'old tongue'?"

"Apparently his mother is Swedish; it's actually his first language. Hard to tell though, his English isn't bad at all."

"Really? That's… exotic, in a way. Or weird." Shepard scanned the surroundings carefully as she talked. Multitasking was second-nature to her after all.

"That's pretty much Tibbs in a nutshell." Ashley snickered. "A lumbering giant of a poet with a mean aim. As long as you don't put an assault rifle in his hands, that is."

"Huh. Tibbs?"

"Oh, yeah. His first name is Tiberius, of all things. So people call him Tibbs. Mostly because he hates it."

"Tiberius? Really? That _is_ weird. Sounds like a turian name." Jenkins piped up from the back, finally deciding to contribute to the conversation.

"And their names sound like old Roman names to me. I think an emperor had that name, come to think of it." Kaidan added.

They were all silenced in an instant, as Shepard gestured for them all to hold. They were coming up on the dig site.

"Falklund, what's your position? What can you see?" Shepard whispered into the comm. At first she only heard the sound of breathing coming through from Falklunds end.

"In position on the ridge overlooking the researchers' camp. I can see the dig site from here too. No geth. Looks like we drew them all out before." He whispered, and then fell quiet for a brief three seconds. "I don't know what the beacon's supposed to look like, but the dig site looks empty from here. Those people I mentioned before who were impaled up at the camp? They're still raised but they look fully turned. Should I take one out? See if I can rile them up? If you can make them all come down the ramp down to the dig site they'll be trapped in a tight space. Easy pickings for you guys. I don't see any more geth further up, though I can't see past the next ridge from here. Could be reinforcements on the other side."

Shepard considered her options for a moment. Having someone scouting unseen from the hills proved more useful than she'd thought. She decided to risk relying on the young sniper a bit more.

"Alright, take one out, we'll set up a kill zone here. We'll fire a few volleys to draw them here if they come down from the spikes. Keep an eye on that ridge, Falklund." The comm was quiet for a bit. Shepard guessed that the sniper was placing himself in a better position.

"Target in sight… On your mark, Commander."

Shepard couldn't resist smirking a little at his jargon. _Seen a few too many action vids, Tibbs?_

"Mark." There was no reply. Only a loud _boom_ from a sniper round rolling over the hills. Suddenly, there was a metallic grinding noise coming from up the ramp they were all training their rifles at.

"They're moving." Came Falklunds voice over the comm, whisper thick with excitement. "I'm ducking into cover, they're all yours."

Shepard aimed up into the sky, letting loose a rapid series of loud barks from her assault rifle.

Almost instantly, a loud choir of wailing moans replied, and the husks came shuffling down the ramp in a packed herd. Four assault rifles opened up, peppering the oncoming husks, the barrage slamming into them like a brick wall. It wasn't a battle so much as a massacre. The brainless husks just shambled down the ramp, and for each of them that fell, those behind got trapped behind a growing pile of their fallen comrades. Making the job even easier for the team of marines.

When there was no more movement, Shepard chucked a grenade into the pile of bodies, blowing it sky high. Both to clear the way and to make sure all the husks were really dead.

After the killing of the already deceased, the team looked around the dig site for clues. They quickly concluded that the beacon had been moved elsewhere, likely to the docks or hidden in the research camp.

Just as they wrapped things up at the dig site, Nihlus's flanged voice crackled over the comm.

"_Change of plans, Shepard. There's a small spaceport up ahead. I want to check it out; I'll wait for you there._"

A distinctly ominous feeling overtook Shepard. Everything about this mission had rubbed her the wrong way from the start. It struck her how lucky they'd been to run into Falklund, now she had a means to scout ahead, sparing herself and her marines the trouble of wading through an unkown number of geth to get to the port.

"Falklund?"

"Here." Came the rogue snipers' hushed reply.

"Move up on that ridge, stick to the hills and report back, just like before. Make sure you're not spotted."

"Got it, moving now." As the comm fell silent again, the four marines moved up the ramp and in among the prefabs. There were three single-roomed prefabs, one of them a flaming wreck. The others, however, were still intact, and one of them had its security lock engaged. Getting it open posed no challenge to Shepard however, as she hacked through the lock as easily as if the skill to do so had become muscle-memory. The door slid open to reveal two frightened, but very much alive scientist. After reassuring the two (of which one was a delusional wreck) and asking them what they knew about the beacon, Shepard learned that the prothean beacon had been moved to the spaceport.

Just as she was telling the scientists to stay in hiding in the prefab until the Alliance came in, a gunshot rang out in the distance. In the blink of an eye, the whole squad was on full alert, weapons raised and searching for hostiles. Finding none in their immediate vicinity, Shepard quickly tried to raise Falklund over the comm.

"Falklund, do you copy?"

"I copy." The rogue sniper answered, breathing heavier but still sounding hushed.

"Are you alright? We heard a gunshot just now."

"Yeah, heard it too, came from the docks just up ahead but I'm not there yet, had to take a detour to get up on the elevation above it. I'll be there in just a sec though, hang on."

Shepard signaled to her squad, and the four marines moved up cautiously toward the dock.

"_Wait!_".

The team halted instantly, crouching down in a hopefully stealthier stance.

"What is it, what did you see?" Shepard whispered into the comm. She didn't need to of course, but both instinct and training compelled her to.

"Geth. A lot of them. Bunch of those husks too. Same type of geth as before, no big ones. There are some more wrecked prefabs but one close to me seems to be intact. Security lock's engaged on it. I'm guessing more survivors…" Falklund, who actually _did_ need to whisper to avoid detection got quiet for a brief moment.

"Falklund?"

"Yeah, sorry. That Nihlus fella', he wouldn't happen to be a turian in a black and red set of armor would he?"

"That's… actually what he is. Why?"

"Because he's dead, sorry commander."

Shepard sighed and shook her head. _Why the hell can't anything ever stick to plan?_ She thought to herself. Circumstances always changed during missions, Shepard was well aware of that, but she'd never gotten used to it. It made her feel like she was losing control. And she _hated_ not being in control.

She pondered the tactical situation for a few moments. From what she'd seen so far, her synthetic foe behaved 'mechanically' and even though they seemed to process and adapt to new tactical situations far faster than most organics, besides salarians perhaps, this made the geth predictable.  
A simple controlled push would do the trick so long as no one lost their composure. In this her main concern was Jenkins and Falklund, who were both unproven in combat.

Yet, their new addition _had_ survived this long. Sure, he'd been armed, but without proper armor or training it was still an impressive feat for a civilian to survive this long under a geth invasion.

"Alright people, we do this the hard way. Cover to cover, slow advance and keep the covering fire going. Focus on the husks first so we don't get overrun. Falklund, you're on covering duty, keep them down and unable to flank us. LT, once we have them pinned I want you to start lifting them out of cover. We'll take 'em out one by one, slow and steady. Everyone ready?"

Another chorus of 'yes ma'am's and the odd '_uppfattat_' and the group moved up. Just as the marines came over the rise overlooking the dock, an unearthly scream filled the air as a titanic structure lifted from the surface. It blasted off in a crimson haze, devastating the area of its departure. The team stopped dead in their tracks as they stared wide-eyed at the monstrous construct leaving the colony.

"Holy hell!" Jenkins exclaimed in awe. "What is _that_?"

"It's a... ship, I think." Kaidan added in a toneless voice, as if not believing his own eyes.

Their daze was promptly interrupted as the geth caught on to them and with a stuttering sound brought their weapons to bear on the marines. All hell broke loose in seconds, as the loud retort of a sniper rifle rang out, slamming one geth headless into the ground. The other geth immediately boosted their shields and went to cover in response to the sniper threat.

The team raced to the few chunks of rock and twisted metal that would pass for cover. The geth were relentless and deadly accurate though, even when suppressed by sniper fire, and their rounds pinged off the teams shields before they were even near cover. Just as Shepard reached a hunk of twisted metal jutting out of the ground, her shields gave out and a flash of pain seared into her shoulder. She dove for cover, and checked her wound. Her armor was compromised; ripped open just between her neck and shoulder plate, it looked as though the round had just grazed her though. She didn't want to waste precious medigel on a minor injury like that however, so she opted to simply block out the pain.

With adrenaline shocking her system and silently cursing the mission, Shepard wasted no time opening up on the handful of husks shambling up toward them.  
Her comrades followed her example and mowed the mindless creatures down with little effort. The geth were going to be a problem though.

Shepard had the best cover of the marines, but rock and blasted metal would only hold so long against mass accelerator weaponry. _Damnit_,_ we need to wrap this up quick_. She threw a quick peek across the battlefield. The husks were all dead, for good this time, but there were four geth troopers left and even though she had no doubt that Falklund could clear them out in _time_; they needed to get past them, more urgently than ever. Luckily, the synthetic troopers were grouped close together. This presented an opportunity.

"Alenko, prime an overload program, hit the first one on the left. Jenkins, Falklund and Williams, keep up the good work. Once their shields are down I want them in the air, got that LT?"

"Yes ma'am, prepping now. Done. Ready when you are, commander."

"Alright." Shepard said, setting her omni-tool to wreak havoc on the synthetics shields."Go!"

Two simultaneous flashes of electricity arced over the geth troopers, killing one instantly in a shower of sparks and overloading the shields of the other three. Barely more than a second later, two were enveloped in a blue haze and floated up into the air, making them easy targets. The last remaining geth trooper was put down unceremoniously with a rifle round tearing its 'head' in two.

The team stuck to cover for some twenty seconds more, scanning for any more hostiles.

"Clear?" Jenkins asked, somewhat unsteadily from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

"Looks like it. At least for now." Williams said, although with a hint of skepticism.

Shepard was pleased. Her team worked well together, and the rogue sniper they'd picked up hadn't been anything less than an asset to them all along.

Jenkins stood up from cover and started moving up on the still intact prefab.

"I bet there's some lucky basterd still alive in-" Jenkins' sentence was cut short with a vengeance.

They never saw it coming.

* * *

**Authors' Addendum;  
So, yeah, finally the tough part is over with. I'm not going to lie to you; this chapter sucked to write. I was bored out of my mind doing it and the threat of a serious writers' block kept looming over me like pedobear in kindergarden. I hope this didn't ruin my writing too badly, and thus your experience. I tried hard not to let it shine through. Anyways, last part of the Eden Prime mission coming up soon! I'll try to get it done tomorrow.**

**"Uppfattat"="Acknowledged"(commonly used in the military, rude or weird to use it outside of a military situation.)  
"Fan"= An old name for the devil in swedish. Kind of like saying "old nick" or something along those lines. In modern swedish used as a curse word. Sort of like how english speaking people use "fuck".**


	6. Bitter Pills And Small Thrills

**Author's Note; Not much to say, this is sort of an in-between chapter. Oh, and of course the end of the Eden Prime mission. Glad that's over with, it's been a royal pain in the ass to write about.  
**

**And no, Bioware, I do not own anything related to the Mass Effect franchise. If I did, there would problably not be an uproar on the internet over the mishandled romance with a certain quarian...**

* * *

In utter helplessness I watched as the glow of death raced towards Jenkins much faster than I'd anticipated.  
Some part of me was still thinking of all of this as a part of a game, of _the_ Mass Effect game. That base thought now took its toll.  
The geth which the player usually encounters _after_ speaking to Powell and discovering Nihlus's dead body would of course not just sit around and wait for us.  
The noise and commotion from the battle had _of course_ alerted them to our presence, and they were now moving up from the tram station.

I barely had time to register their presence, as I had completely neglected to watch out for them.  
So the geth destroyer had ample opportunity to draw a bead on Jenkins as he was out of cover.

"Geth! Get down!" I screamed into the comm as I slid down out of sight, hoping that the synthetics wouldn't focus their attention on me.

Jenkins barely had time to swivel around to face the new threat before the explosive blast from the destroyers' weapon caught him squarely in the chest.  
His upper torso and head almost vanished in a violent explosion of fire and gore, sending one of his arms flying while the other hung on by charred skin alone as the young marines' smoking corpse was thrown to the ground by the blast.

Again the docks plunged into chaos as a fierce firefight broke out. Risking a shot, I crawled up again as cautiously as I could, lying flat against the dirt.  
I quickly surveyed the battlefield through my scope and found, much to my relief, that Shepard and the others were focusing on the destroyer.  
The combined firepower of the three marines already turning it to scrap metal as it dumbly marched up on their position.

With the geth clearly focused on Shepard's team, I started to bite into their back ranks. _Breath in slowly, breath out._ _Boom_. A trooper slumped down with a nice fresh hole in its head. _One more, come on._ I spotted a lone sniper in their ranks, moving into cover from Shepards relentless assault. It wasn't safe from me though. _Boom_. It too, went limp and quite dead.

By now, the others had finished off the rest of the geth here and were carefully moving up. I stayed put for a bit, looking for any stragglers as they secured the perimeter with Ash and Kaidan taking up covering positions while Shepard went to investigate Nihlus' corpse. I was not taking any chances this time, a heavy lump of guilt already forming in my gut. Jenkins wasn't exactly a friend but he seemed a decent kid, and I could have prevented his death if I'd just… I don't know, woken up.

It was one thing when I was doing my own thing, but as soon as I'd met up with Shepard I fell into script so to speak. It was dawning on me now just how damn lucky I'd been up until now. Not to mention that I'd better get used to this being my reality, and fast.

I could see them talking with the smuggler Powell now, and it looked as if they'd managed to convince him to hand over his stolen goods. Good. A charismatic Shepard goes a long way.

I sighed and decided to go on and see if I could catch a glimpse of the other end of the port. I got up with a sigh and trotted off, rifle held rather loosely. Trying to banish the image of Jenkins mangled body from my mind proved futile; it just wouldn't go away.

I'd seen a lot of horrible things in these few hours. Broken bodies, civilian and military alike, all with a frozen expression of pain or fear or both etched into their lifeless faces. Some were in such a state that one could barely tell if they were human at all. But it had all been out of my control, and I had known all along that all I could do was to see to my own survival.

I shook my head and knelt down, propping up my rifle in a more comfortable grip. I'd reached the end of the line it'd seem. The ridge wasn't traversable here anymore, as it ended in a steep fall on my left and front, and an even steeper climb on my right. The tram by the dock spanned the chasm between this part of the docks and the next. The final part, if you will.

_Jävla… Fan. _I cursed wearily to myself. By now things didn't really _take_. I'd seen too much in too short a space of time and now I just felt myself going numb. My mind was bloody overloaded, I tell you. Seeing Jenkins getting blown to oblivion should have me at least retching for a bit. Instead, it only produced that heavy lump of guilt churning in the pit of my stomach.

"_Falklund, are you there? Falklund?"_

Shepards voice over the comm stirred me from my thoughts. I blinked a few times, trying to dispel the tired burning in my eyes.

"I'm here commander, what do you need?" I couldn't help some of my apathy from washing over my words.

"_Do you see anything? Any stragglers or ambushes up ahead?"_

_Amazing_, I thought to myself. Even after my horrible failure with Jenkins she's still asking me to help out. She's either a saint or bloody _stupid_.

"No, you're all clear up to the tram, I'll try to recon the other side. I think this scope has the range for it."

"_Alright, keep me posted._"

I hesitated for a brief moment, wanting to say something. Anything. Apologize maybe, I don't know.

I sighed and brought up my rifle, supporting one elbow on my knee to steady it. And would you look at that, I had a clear shot all the way. The scope could zoom in enough so that I could see the geth going about their business. My eyes went wide as I saw the distinctly familiar pieces of equipment they were positioning around the other side of the docks. _Bombs_.

"Shepard! They're setting up bombs on the other side, looks heavy duty!" Adrenaline started pouring through my veins again.

"_Can you distract them?"_

"I..." Holy fuck, she's asking a lot of me here.

"_Can you do it?!"_ Shepard repeated with a much more demanding voice. I don't know what it was, but somehow she made me feel… obligated, to do my best. Like she'd kicked awake a little voice in the back of my head saying _'I won't fail you'_.

"Distraction coming right up!" I checked that the scope VI was running and started drawing a bead. Then it hit me.

"What about you commander? You'll be exposed on that tram!" I held my trigger finger back, aiming for a rival sniper judging from the rifle in its synthetic hands.

"_We'll handle it. You have your orders soldier, now get to it!"_

_Here goes nothing._ I squeezed the trigger, lodging a shot in the geths chest. It wasn't a perfect hit, but now I knew that the rifle VI was doing what it should.

It was as if I'd kicked a hornet's nest. The geth immediately went to cover while scanning for the source of harm, flashlight heads darting all over the place. Now I just had to take out the other two snipers before they put a neat little hole in my head. I hit the dirt and scooted up towards some small rocks, trying to make myself as small a target as possible.

The geth had yet to figure out where I was, but now they were alerted to the tram ferrying Shepard across. _Come on you little shits_. I found the second sniper popping out its flashlight head, probably to send a bullet toward Shepard and gang. _Boom_. Unfortunately I couldn't _hear_ the synthetic snipers head get torn off, but it still felt pretty damn satisfying. The last sniper was hiding behind a crate on the far end of the tram station.

By now, the others had arrived, shielded from geth fire under the biotic bubble projected by Kaidian. He was sweating profusely, face contorted in a look of excruciating effort, and it looked as if Shepard was administering something to him. Stims maybe? I didn't have time to think about it; as long as they would make it over I could relax. Relatively speaking.

The commander and the others were tearing into the geth proper now, Shepard sending tech attacks all over the place while presenting a relentless hail of gunfire from her pistol. Ashley was firing and dodging from cover to cover as if she was on speed. _Damn_.

Kaidan was still in the fight, even though he hung back with his pistol and used his biotics sparingly.

The last sniper now jumped into the fray. It didn't get to play with the others for very long though, since I'd been waiting for it. _Boom_.

"_Fitt-robot!"_ I cursed loudly as my shot only managed to rip its arm off, missing its head. I immediately sent another round into it. It struck the synthetic squarely in the chest, sending it to robot-hell.

I bit back an annoyed growl as my rifle overheated as a consequence.

Kaidan was apparently on bomb duty, as he now ran from bomb to bomb disarming them while Williams and Shepard cleared a path.

I almost made the same mistake again, thinking that there were no more hostiles except those on the tram station. Those particular geth were now reduced to two simple troopers.

A horribly false assumption, as the rest of the husks and geth troopers guarding the beacon now all came up ready for a fight.

The husks came up first, baying and wailing as they went. After them came a handful of more troopers as well as three shock troopers. Neither numbers nor composition of Sarens' forces had followed the game so far so I wasn't thrown back by it at all. I merely called out a 'Husks incoming!' on the comm and started working on thinning the herd.

By now we were working as a team, with me in a supporting role, Shepard as the anti-geth and Williams and Kaidan as the husk-mowers. Since our opposition lacked any real heavy-hitters, we managed to push them back enough so that Kaidan could disarm the bombs. _I gotta ask him how much time we had left later!_

Then we just whittled them down one by one. The fighting was much briefer than it had felt though. Like before, we waited out the calm for a minute or two before moving on. Jenkins fate had galvanized our little fellowship it would seem, as well as made us more cautious. Kaidan and Shepard especially had been pushing forward with a grim resolve.

"_Alright."_ Shepard called over the comm. "_I'm sending back the tram, come on over, Falklund. But keep your eyes peeled, we're moving up on the beacon"  
_

* * *

**SSV Normandy, 1 hour post Eden Prime.**

A shower and a few pinches of medi-gel later and I was feeling substantially better. Though the sheer excitement over being aboard the _Normandy_ would probably have made me forget the loss of a limb.

As it was, I'd only gotten some scrapes and some serious bruising from my improvised CQC with the clanks. My knuckles were pretty badly banged up on one hand too but that's what you get for slugging a robot with your bare hand.

Dr. Chakwas had been busy with Shepard when we came aboard so it was actually Kaidan who fixed me up.

For some reason there wasn't even a question whether I should come aboard or not when the Normandy took off from Eden prime. They were pretty much like 'are you coming or what?'

So I just trotted along with them and here I am. Getting cleaned up and having my 'injuries' looked at took priority but once that was done I sat down in the mess hall to wait. I really wanted to go have a look around the ship but I wasn't going to push my luck. Besides, I knew Shepard wouldn't be out of it for very long.

Also, I'd gotten a change of clothes. Since my old ones were covered in blood and dirt. Not to mention that they were torn in a number of places. So I was now wearing the (in my eyes) space-pajama that is standard issue in the Alliance.

And let me tell you; they suck ass. I mean they really aren't comfy. _Anywhere_. And I'll die a happy man if I never have to wear another pair of Alliance issue underwear ever again.

Trying to find something to do to distract myself from the feeling of wearing an angry raccoon instead of proper underwear, I decided to revise my situation.

First of all, I'm on the Normandy. Which is good. No one's told me anything yet but I of course already know we're headed to the Citadel. As for whether I'm going with Shepard on the mission?

I honestly don't think so. I mean, sure, I did read a lot of fanfiction before I ended up here. And in all those self-inserts I used to read the dimension/time-jumper always ends up with the Shepard entourage. But I've been painfully reminded throughout this whole mess that this is real. _This is real_ _life._ And there is no reason why an elite military operative should bring some unknown civilian with her that simply happens to know how to hold a rifle. I'm just not qualified.

I sigh and look around. The mess is pretty much empty. I saw Anderson walk into his quarters some time ago but otherwise-oh! Here comes Ash.

She offers me a tired smile to match my own as she walks up to my table. Then she puts a box drink in front of me before sitting down with one of her own in the chair opposite mine.

I take it without hesitation, taking a few thirsty gulps of the drink. _Hm_.

"Thanks, Ash. Black currant? That's thoughtful of you." I wink before taking another sip.

"Yeah, I figured you'd need some cheering up. It's been… one hell of a day, right?"

"It has." I murmur back. Ash doesn't say anything to continue the conversation. Though there some major tension in the air. She glances at me, then at the med bay door and then settles for staring down into the table. Her being quiet isn't helping my guilty conscience one bit.

"Ash. I, uhm. I'm sorry."

She raises an eyebrow at me but stays quiet. There's a moment of silence. I don't really know what to say. I only know that it has to get out before it drives me crazy.

"I, ah. I failed. I got Jenkins killed. I should have seen those fucking clankers coming but I wasn't even paying attention. He's dead because of me. And I couldn't help the Townes because I wasn't fast enough. If I'd stayed at home for just a few more hours then maybe I could have gotten them out of there. Or at least kept us hidden until the Alliance came in. I-"

"Okay, stop. Right there." Ash says in a firm but gentle tone as she locks eyes with me. "There's nothing you could have done. Besides, Alenko told me you actually _saved_ Jenkins ass before you ran into me. I mean, sure, you slipped up. But so did I. And the commander, _and_ the LT. You did a lot better than most people without training would, and better than some _with_ training. There's no point driving yourself crazy over all the coulda', shoulda' and wouldas'. Missions go wrong sometimes, it's just part of it all, you know?"

She grabs my right hand and rubs her thumb across my knuckles while offering me a comforting smile. I can't really think of anything to say, so I just nod a little while mulling her words over.

"What about you?" I ask softly, lowering my voice near to a whisper. I know how private she can be about how she feels about some things.

"It's… tough, but I'll manage. It's part of the job, and I couldn't picture myself as anything other than a soldier. Thanks for asking though."

"Hey, I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't, right?"

"I guess not." She grins, slapping my wrist before leaning back in her chair a bit more relaxed.

As our conversation dies down, we're both apparently feeling content with just keeping each other company in silence. I start fiddling with my omni-tool, trying to make some sort of plan for the immediate future.

I'm guessing I can't see myself going into any ordinary line of work. I hated the nine-to-five routine back on old Earth. So. What then? Military? Naah, too many rules and regulations to box me in. I'm not a fan of that.

Omega maybe then? Work for some kingpin or maybe even Aria? Yeah, maybe. I mean, if shit goes south on the Citadel I'll just hop on a transport to Omega and rob some batarian. They're all slavers and pirates outside of Hegemony space anyway. I won't feel bad about that. There's nothing to keep me rooted in any place right now. It's all just what I have to do to get by for the moment.

Anderson walks by, not really paying much attention to us grunts as he marches into the med bay.

Both me and Ash glance at the closed door, muffled sounds coming out of the bay. Nothing's really happening besides talking for a bit though. On a whim I decide to look through my mail.

"Hah! Sweet."

"What?" Ash jumps a little in her chair.

"The licenses for my guns came through; I just didn't notice it in all the commotion. I must have gotten it just when the geth attacked. Guess that makes me a certified gunslinger." I grinned at the marine in front of me.

"Oh, well good. Just don't go shooting the good guys now." She winked at me. She looked as though she was going to ask something but was interrupted by the med bay door opening, revealing Kaidan and Chakwas as they exited the med bay.

"Hey, guys!" I called out. "Any news?"

"The commander is up and about. She'll be just fine as far as I can tell." The doctor answered with that faint smile that seemed ever present in her face. Alenko and Chakwas both came over to our table and took a seat. I decided that it was best to play the stupid card.

"So where we headed?" I asked, sounding as genuinely interested as I could.

"Ever been to the Citadel, kid?" Kaidan smiled.

"_That's_ where we're going? Awesome!" I didn't have to fake any excitement at that, I seriously couldn't wait to see the Citadel up close. They all chuckled a little at me.

"We're going to have to drop you off there I'm afraid. You have any place you can go? Any family or friends back on Earth?" Kaidan inquired, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Actually… No. I've no place to go. Figured I'd try Omega if the Citadel doesn't work out."

Their eyes damn near popped out of their collective sockets at that.

"Omega? Really? Do you have any idea of what that place is like? The rumors alone are…"

"Doctor Chakwas is right, kid. Omegas no place for, well, _anyone_."

"Look, Isak… I could make some calls, see if you can stay with my sister for a while. You're a good guy and I'd hate to see you end up in a bad way. And I still think you should join up. Especially now that you've got no real options." Ashley looked seriously worried about me. Wow. Fuzzy feeling.

"Thanks, Ash, really. But I'd hate to be a bother. Look, I'll try the Citadel for a while. I'm not broke, and I managed to grab a pair of geth guns back before we left. They're bound to be worth some serious creds. So, uhm… I don't want sound ungrateful or anything but I want to try and make it on my own first."

"Okay" Ash sighed. "Just promise you'll stay in touch, alright? If you need help…"

"I'll call you right away, don't worry."

The unmistakable voice of flight lieutenant Jeff Moreau a.k.a. 'joker' sounded from the intercom.

"Hey, new kid, we're jumping to the Citadel now. Figure you might wanna see it."

"Hell yes!"

"Alright, then get your ass to the bridge."

* * *

The ride in to the Citadel was bloody awesome, let me tell you that. There's nothing that cements your feeling of living in a sci-fi adventure like seeing all the ships crowding the Citadel. The others laughed at me but I couldn't care less. The Destiny Ascension had my face making a perfect illustration of a bloody birdhouse. I was like 'Fuck, you seeing that?!' at everything I could see from out of the Normandys cockpit.

The commander came up to watch too. Afterwards she pulled me aside and basically just told me not beat myself up about Jenkins. Oh, and she also pulled the whole 'the Alliance needs YOU' thing on me. I politely refused. Or, more like _vaguely_ refused, but anyway. Shepard is one hard woman to say no to.

But I was now standing in the elevator down to C-sec along with Ash, Kaidan and Shepard. The atmosphere was a bit on the thick side. I felt as though I should break the silence but I couldn't figure out what to say. Ash and I glanced at each other. Shepard ruffled her raven, chin-length hair.

A whining grumble reverberated in the elevator. Everyone turned to look at me.

"What? I haven't eaten anything for hours, gimme a break…"

Shepard actually grinned for the first time since I'd met her, chuckling at my expense. Kaidan just made some stifled snorting sound. Ash grinned and bumped her shoulder into me.

"If we get done here quick, going for a bite sounds like a good idea."

"Don't count on it, Williams. We're meeting the council after all." Shepard sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "_If_ we get done quickly then sure, we'll meet up somewhere. I doubt you'll have trouble finding a buyer for those guns." She added, pointing at the bag I was carrying containing my old clothes as well as two geth pulse rifles and a geth sniper rifle.

I had my handgun collapsed and shoved into the holster in my belt. My rifle and shotgun both hung from straps I'd flung over my shoulders. I needed to buy some freakin' mag-clips.

"I'm more worried that some volus or salarian will rip me off. I've actually no idea what these might be worth."

"Well." Shepard started, rubbing her delicate chin with an absolutely adorable little crease between her brows. Yes, Shepard is bloody cute. Also I seriously suspect that she might be a Shepard from one of my playthroughs since there's an eerie resemblance. The moment she drops her tough-as-nails military demeanor she turns into this really cute woman with a much older and more experienced look in her eyes than her somewhat teen-ish looks would tell. "Given that they're likely composed of tech that doesn't exist outside of the Veil, I'd say they should fetch more than most guns. Somewhere around seventy-ninety thousand credits might be a fair price. Just stick to the market districts and stay out of any dark alleys."

My jaw dropped at that and I just stared at her. Then I stared at the dull grey bag in my hand. I was holding a bloody fortune! It took me few seconds to compose myself.

"Fuck _me_, I'm rich!"

"Ain't that kind of girl, Tibbs." Ash grinned and slapped my shoulder

"That wasn't what I meant!" I would have flailed my hands about if they weren't occupied with keeping all my gear from ending up all over the floor. Ash just chuckled at my embarrassment.

Finally the elevator stopped, reaching the C-sec academy. We all piled out rather relieved to be out of the cramped space.

Now for the (probably) final goodbyes. Clearing my throat, I started feeling somewhat awkward.

"So… It's been one hell of a ride. I, uhm, just want to say that I'm glad I met you guys. That goes double for you, Ash."

"Same here, kid. You take care now."

"Any time, Tibbs. Don't be a stranger."

Shepard stepped forward and shook my hand with a smile. "Take care, Falklund. If you ever end up in the Alliance, give us a heads up if there's any trouble."

"Will do, commander. And thanks." I squeezed her hand briefly before letting go and turning to take the next elevator up to the wards.

* * *

**Authors' Addendum:**

**A lot of talking in this chapter, I know. And sorry for the long wait. It's probably for the best if I don't make promises. At all.**

**"jävla"="Damn", "Damned"**  
**"Fitt-robot"="Cunt-robot"**  
**A lot of curses so far but that's always the first thing you learn in a new language anyways so... enjoy!**


	7. First Contact

**Author's Note:**

**This chapter features talking! And lot's of it.**

**The blood and obscenities will have to wait for the next one I'm afraid.**

**Thanks so much for your reviews so far! I might've given this fic up if it wasn't for you guys, so many thanks to you all!**

* * *

"Hold the elevator!" I was brought out of the clouds rather abruptly by a heavily accented voice. I didn't have the luxury of a free hand so I simply stepped in between the elevator doors and prayed to whatever entity was on my side that they had a safety break.

It seemed I didn't have to find out though, as a suited alien blitzed past me and into the elevator. Blinking somewhat dumbfounded, I stepped back into the elevator, checking out who was accompanying me. With a slight hiss, the elevator took off.

"Thanks." The suited man said with a familiar synthetic ring to his voice.

"No problem." I smiled at him. I was tired as hell from my ordeal, and was now running on fumes.

Because of my fatigue, I didn't quite have the energy to be polite. Leading to myself staring at the poor man as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Although his visor made it impossible to tell, the man was getting visibly irritated.

"You're quarian." I said. My conscience simply facepalmed and got back to whatever it had been doing before.

"And you're human." The quarian man bit back, with a generous amount of venom in his voice.

Unfortunately for him, that didn't deter me in the slightest. And since I already knew that quarians were generally ill-treated, I wasn't offended.

"Heh, that's awesome. I've never seen a quarian before. Well, not for real at least."

The quarian looked at me as if wondering if I was quite insane, before answering somewhat carefully.

"I… Well, now you have."

Now he was checking me out. He must've had quite the handful trying to figure me out. There I was, half an armory in my hands and on my back, clad in the Alliance blues (which were confusingly similar to the C-sec attire), covered in bruises and with my hand wrapped in bandages.  
On top of that, I was probably the only human male on the entire Citadel with long hair. Not to mention my tattoos, of which he now appeared to be studying with some interest.

"Like 'em?"

"What? Oh, sorry, I did not mean to intrude."

"Relax man, I've nothing against quarians and my threshold for when I get offended is probably higher than most peoples'."

"Oh, I see." Still, he averted his eyes instantly, opting to just stand there blankly staring forward.

Since he'd taken the liberty to check me out, I took the liberty of checking his suit out. Not that I was being as discrete as he had been.

The metal components were a dull grey. The cloth, richly covered in a complex angular pattern of black lines, was of a darker shade of green and the edges of his hood were a circle of bright gold framing his visor. The visor itself was a pale blue.

After appraising his suit for a bit, I huffed and snorted. Turning to idly stare at the elevator door.

"It's a shame, really." I muttered.

"What is?"

"That quarians are treated like shit." I replied bluntly. "It's obvious that your kind is worth respect. Those suits you wear are works of fine craftsmanship if I ever saw it. Oh, I'd shake your hand but…" I lifted my bag as to explain as I drifted off.

"… Why would you shake my hand?" The quarian asked, sounding somewhat puzzled.

"Oh, it's a human greeting gesture. It's considered polite when meeting someone new. At least for civilians. You don't do something similar?"

"Not really, no." He had a smooth, even voice. It felt very controlled to me. "I guess our gestures are a bit more subtle. Few of our expressions involve touching of any kind."

"Really? Huh… Name's Falklund, by the way. Isak Falklund."

"Tir'Legar nar Veseius" I noticed that he made a slight bow as he introduced himself.

"Ah." I nodded thoughtfully to myself as I mulled over the information his name carried. "So you're here on your pilgrimage, right? Oh! And the ship you, uhm, _hail from_ was turian, am I right?"

Tir, obviously baffled, stared at me a good few seconds before answering.

"Correct on both accounts… how did you know that? So far I've not encountered anyone, except my Fleet brothers and sisters, who could gather that much from my name." His luminescent eyes radiated intelligence and curiosity.

"Hrm. Well, a lot of stuff is right there on the extranet, if you just bother to filter through all the trash talk about your people." I was going out on a limb here, trying to give an as mundane as possible a reason for my knowledge. "Besides, quarian women..." I drifted off in meaningful silence.

Judging from Tir's posture, I'd guess he was giving me the quarian equivalent of an exasperated sigh.

"No offense, Mr. Falklund, but you'd best not bother with our women. Unless you like the idea of getting shot." He said this in a plain, bored tone. Almost as if he'd heard similar and worse things said before. Which I bet he had. I messed up just now, didn't I?

"I didn't mean-"

"No, I don't think you did either. You don't seem too bad a person, at least as far as humans go. But you need to understand that we are not just culturally different from your kind. There are complications, most of them unpleasant. I'm giving you a fair warning here so… just… keep it friendly, but not _too_ friendly. And Ancestors curse you if you don't; but keep it in your pants."

"Right, got it. Sorry." Yeah, I fucked up.

"Don't worry about it." To Tir's credit, he didn't seem angry at all.

"Is that kind of a sensitive issue? Just so I don't go offending any more quarians." There's evidently a lot I don't know. It's to be expected though, I suppose. It's not a game anymore after all.

"It is, but I suppose I'm like you; not easily offended. Were I as my Fleet brethren, I probably would have punched you for that. We're generally very protective of our own, especially our Fleet sisters. Then again, I've spent some time with humans as part of my Pilgrimage. I'm used to your… direct nature, you could say."

"Oh." That was a relief. Working with humans though? That got me interested.

"So how's your pilgrimage going?" I eagerly diverted to a different subject.

"Very good, as a matter of fact. I'm working for a human company, of all things. Aldyne Inventions?"

"Aldyne? I see. They're rumored to be lot more tolerant to other species than most companies. I suppose the rumor is true then?" Aldyne again, what's up with that?

"They are, at least from what I've seen. I'm working as a clerk in their gun shop on Zakera. Though I handle a lot of logistics and shipping too since my boss is… eccentric, you might say."

"Really? That's awesome. You people deserve every lucky break you get."

"That's kind of you to say." Again, Tir made that slight bow. For some reason, it made me think of Thane Krios. Come to think of it, Tir kind of had that 'coolness' about him. Let's just call it the Krios factor.

Now, I would have facepalmed something horribly, but since my hands were occupied…

"ffu-argh!"

"What?" Tir had jumped a little at my sudden outburst, and was now regarding me with a somewhat defensive posture.

"Nothing, it's just me being an idiot. Look, Tir, Could we share a cab to that shop of yours? I've got some geth guns here I need sold and you seem like a decent guy so I don't think you'll rip me off here."

"Geth guns? _Geth. Guns?_" Tir did not look convinced, to say the least.

I set the bag down and opened it, revealing the sleek forms of the geth weapons inside. Tir's eyes looked as if they were going to smash through his visor any second. Right on time, the elevator stopped. I hurriedly closed the bag and hoisted it up with a grunt. The quarian merchant almost stuttered as he urged me toward the closest rapid transit terminal.

* * *

The ride over to Zakera ward was enough to distract me from the potential fortune I was about to make. Seeing all the skycars zipping by as we traversed the massive station was incredible. Everything outside of the presidium looked a lot more 'spacey', too. My gawking went uninterrupted by my company. I would believe that Tir'Legar was too occupied himself with thinking about what he should give for the geth guns, and the profit he stood to make from selling them off to some tech company. Though… I sat back in the seat as a thought struck me. These weapons might be valuable to the Migrant Fleet. After all, the geth hadn't been outside of the Veil in nearly three centuries, so any technological progress they'd made would be of great interest to the Fleet, not to mention the Admiralty Board.

Perhaps I could leverage a favor here? I bet something like this would be a suitable pilgrimage gift after all.

I'd been so engrossed in my thoughts that I'd failed to notice that the car had arrived at our destination; Zakera market district. Tir was waiting outside with his arms crossed. He was trying hard not to seem rushed but I could see him lightly tapping his fingers on his forearms.

I got out and started following him, zig-zagging through the crowd. The majority here seemed to be salarian and turian, mixed with some humans and the odd hanar or elcor. The only asari I saw stood by the kiosks in some of the shops we passed. I suppose asari are kind of 'upper-class' on the Citadel. I wasn't surprised to see that most shops were worked by volus. Most of _those_ also happened to have some of their merchandise in their shops for display or purchase, along with a grizzly-looking krogan or turian guard.

"And we're here" Tir had stopped, and with a fluid gesture indicated the name in bright holographic lights above the store we were now stood in front of. It read 'Aldyne Arms'.

I felt better already. Mostly because I had a good feeling about the place. Tir's friendly personality as well as the security of a known store contributed to that. After all, in a sense, I created Aldyne. And they're a good bunch. Mostly. Or, where they are _visible_ at least. Never mind.

"So _this_ is where you work? Seems nice enough." And it did. Instead of the oh-so-common and oh-so-boring concept of a simple kiosk to browse through and a single attendant, this shop had a more classic layout. There were of course the kiosks, one on each far end of the counter, but there were also some merchandise on display throughout the store. It was fairly large and rectangular. I'd say… about twenty meters wide and around ten long? There was also a doorway by the counter into a back area. I assumed it was a storage area of some kind. Old school. _I can work with that_.

"Mr. Bryson, sir?" Tir called out.

"Mr. Bryson went out to the shelter again." A gruff voice responded, and the hulking figure of a krogan thumped into view.

"_Alone_? Keelah, that man will get himself killed someday. Why didn't you go with him, Yar?"

"Damn fool insisted that I'd stay and vouch for you if C-sec decided to be a bother again. Orders are orders." The krogan, Yar, grumbled. He sounded annoyed but there was also an undertone of admiration. If their boss was able to inspire a krogan to feel that way about him, then he'd have to be something special.

"_Damned_. Anyway, I picked up a client. He says he wants to sell us _geth weapons_. And as far as I can tell, they're genuine." Tir said excitedly as he rounded the counter to face me.

The krogan huffed appreciatingly, and then thumped over to lean against the shops doorway. I'm guessing it was his usual haunt. Yar glanced our way with badly feigned disinterest as I emptied the contents of my bag on the counter.

"I've already had these valued." I started, opting to bludgeon my way through since I'm not very good with matters of business. The concept of money never sat well with me. "And my source says they're good for ninety thousand, a piece. However…" I leaned in towards Tir, lowering my voice. "I'll give you this here pulse rifle at half cost to you. Something for your pilgrimage, no? And a favor."

Tir stood rigid for a few seconds. Then he leaned in close as well, almost whispering.

"I'll give you eighty thousand for these officially…" He said, then shoved one pulse rifle to the side. "And fourty for this one, out of my own pocket. As for the favor, you'll have to be more specific before I agree to anything."

"Fair point. I can't say now, but I might ask something of you in the future. Nothing extreme though. And I promise on the souls of my ancestors that I will not ask anything of you that might damage the Fleet in any way." We held a staring contest for a bit. For the record; it's really friggin _hard_ to have a staring contest with a quarian.

"Alright… You have yourself a deal, Mr. Falklund." We smiled (at least I think he did), and shook hands on it. Tir somewhat awkwardly. Guess he didn't fancy the touching part.

"Now, I've a few items I need to purchase…"

* * *

I exited the shop some two hours later, saying my goodbyes to the quarian merchant as well as the krogan guard. They both, surprisingly, eagerly encouraged me to take care of myself. The krogan even went as far as formally thanking me for my business. Well, formally for krogan is pretty much just saying his full name but anyway. Nakmor Yar seemed a nice fellow.

I'd sold off the old trusty handgun and bought myself one of Aldyne design instead. It was an AA-13(Aldyne Arms) Cottonmouth. A real beast of a gun, it fired three consecutive rounds before overheating but the low rate of fire was worth it. Its design featured some heavy duty stabilizing and recoil dampening tech that made it possible to fire with almost sniper-like accuracy. The sheer power of the gun of course meant that in most hands it would only be the first round that was given that kind of accuracy.  
I'd actually bought a HUD-link mod, the VI required for long distance firing accuracy as well as a silencer for it. They now resided in my bag.

To say I felt secure with the Cottonmouth at my side was an understatement. Damn gun could pulverize a krogans head.

Carrying my stuff was easier now too, as I'd bought a proper belt with magnetic clips to the side and back. As for my sniper rifle I'd opted for a clip harness with two mag-clips on the back and some small pockets lining the front. The whole thing was supposed to be attached to the belt. When attached, the harness formed a 'Y' forking over my shoulders. Said belt also had a barrier generator, with most of its electronics fitted into the buckle. The barrier was fairly weak, but it was better than nothing.

In my right hand I held both my considerably lighter bag as well as an armor case. I'd bought a set of Guardian armor, light class. I'd had it customized with paint and such but otherwise it was nothing fancy. Latest model of course, the mark ten-b if memory serves me right. Still one of the cheaper lines of armor. It'd do just fine for me though.

The true prize in my 'collection' though, was a... Yar had called it a 'knife' but to me it was a friggin sword. Neither Yar nor Tir knew the specifics, but it was apparantly a weapon used by some sort of splinter-group in the second Nordic war back on Earth. The elusive Bryson had apparantly purchased it off some fellow and then it had just been sitting in his shop for a couple of years. Understandably, since no one bought melee weapons except krogan in this day and age. And they preferred such weapons of their own make, according to Yar.

The metal was a matted black alloy that seemed to not reflect any light at all. Incredibly strong, and a tad bit flexible according to scans although I couldn't make it flex even if I jumped on it.  
The blade itself was 62 centimetres long, mostly straight except for a gradually increasing curvation toward the tip. Sort of like a bastard child of a European longsword and an oriental scimitar.  
The grip was very comfortable and very stylish in a subtle way, black with three thin circles of silver. The guard was a simple, if diminuitive, silvery crossguard with its ornated center shaped in the vague, haunting image of some sinister spectral being. It vaguely resembled a skull wrapped in some unnatural mist. The arms of the crossguard were no more than four centimetres long each. The blade was double-edged, except for the ten or so centimeters on its 'back' closest to the guard. There, instead, it was serrated.

The whole weapon gave off a cruel, sinister vibe.  
It was love at first sight. I just had to have it. So it was now in a plain but subtly stylish black scabbard on my left hip. Cottonmouth to the right. I felt refreshingly awesome.

The shopping spree had set me back quite a bit. The geth guns had earned me two hundred thousand creds. With the small amount of money I had left from my time on Eden Prime, I was down to a hundred and twenty-four thousand seven hundred and four worth of credits. It was still a fuck-ton of money, more than I'd ever had, but I had to think about what I spent them on now.

Which meant I needed a hotel to dump my things and afterwards a cold drink to soothe my nerves. Preferably some ass to go along with that. How about Choras?

* * *

**Author's Addendum;**

**I'll be putting a lot of non-canon items and tech in this fic since Aldyne Inventions is kind of rogueish. They've connections to some very radical elements in this fic, and their influence is seen in their tech. Nothing too extreme, just **_**different**_**.**

**Again, a slow episode(somewhat shorter), but I've got some good ideas for what'll come up so hopefully the next episode won't take as long.**

**Cheerio!**


	8. What Not To Expect

**Author's Note:**

**This was supposed to be the usual short-ish chapter but halfway through I got second wind. Then third, and fourth, and fifth and yadayada-Boom; Here it is.**

**Plot development will be slow in this one, in a sense. BUT be warned; Here be smutt, and fluff.**

**And a splash of gore. Can't make do without the gore.**

**Oh, and I stole a few things about quarian culture from Calinstel. If you haven't read his "To Survive" fics yet then I strongly recommend that you do.  
I'm not incorporating his entire lore though. Mostly because it's a bit too inflexible for my taste. Plausible, but inflexible.**

* * *

Avina turned out to be quite helpful in my search for a suitable and not too expensive hotel. 'She' had directed me to the Paradiso. It was on the presidium but didn't seem to overcharge. And it was frequented by Alliance personnel. I don't really know why that seemed a good thing but to me, but a place with a steady income would seem likely to have little reason to raise their prices very often. It struck me once again how little I knew of what things were worth here.

So, after dumping my stuff there I set out towards Chora's. I'd left my rifle, harness and shotgun at the hotel in my bag along with the armor case. For some reason the thought of leaving my gun and sword behind gave me a bad vibe, so they stayed on my person. I was going to _Chora's_ after all. I might have to scare off some lowlife.

That reminds me, I need to get an account set up. Having all these credits on my person just isn't safe.

I took a detour through the market district to check for clothes. As a result it took me some time before I came upon the miniature plaza outside of Flux.  
The view out the window there was really something. I trotted up toward the railing, leaning against it. Outside, the massive asari ship the Destiny Ascension drifted by.  
It had a definite aquatic feel to its design; sleek, fluid and graceful despite its massive size. Against the almost supernatural glow of the nebula, it seemed otherworldly.

I can't say what it was that disturbed me from my reverie. All I can say is that it felt like an itch in the back of my mind. I shot a glance over my shoulder, scanning the plaza. I spotted three figures that immediately rang a warning bell in my head. Two armored salarians flanking a turian just turned to walk down the stairs leading toward the elevator to C-sec. A passage in which there was also a back alley leading to Chora's.

As if to cement my suspicions, the turian displayed a lack of professionalism.

"I know it's not part of the contract, but I hope that suit-rat gives me a reason to shoot her." The turian said in an oily voice that sent ripples of revulsion through me. In my opinion, he needed to die. Horribly.

"Not so loud! C-sec's just over there." One of the salarians reprimanded, in a hushed voice. The turian just grunted back.

_Fucking assholes, I should… no, I shouldn't, that's Shepard's job, not mine_. I went back to staring out into space. Literally.

* * *

In the red lighting of the poorly lit back alley, her nerves where jolted at every sound. Tali'Zorah nar Rayya may have been young, but she was not stupid.  
Something about this whole setup was rubbing her the wrong way. But she had nowhere else to turn, and the doctor who had fixed her gunshot wound and pointed her toward that volus seemed nice. That Fist had struck her as a common thug though. Maybe all human males were that brutish, but she didn't really have that much experience with them so she had no knowledge to fall back on.

_But still_, she thought to herself, _why was he even supposed to be here? Why not just tell me what the Broker look like and set up a meeting?_

She battled internally for a minute or two. The part of her telling her to get out of there as fast as her legs could carry her had almost won the argument when she heard footsteps coming her way.

A turian came into view first, flanked by two salarians. She thought he looked, well, _mundane_ for being the galaxy's best information broker.  
She caught a glimpse of a human, too, just before it dodged out of sight. Now she was getting really nervous. She slipped a hand behind her back, resting it on the butt of her shotgun. Feeling a little emboldened by the weapons' presence, she began to wonder if maybe these people had nothing to do with her business here at all.

She felt disheartened when the turian fixed her with his eyes. A look of contempt and something else in his eyes that sent fear and disgust racing through her veins.  
_Oh, Keelah, this is wrong! Run you stupid girl!_ Her mind cried. But she was frozen in place, her badly abused nerves and fever-ridden brain overloaded from stress.  
Just as the turian reached the steps leading down to the lower area of the alley where she stood, the human snuck up behind the salarian in the back falling behind his comrades.

It was over in a blur. The human took two silent steps forward, spun and with but the slightest _schiing_ severed the salarian's thin neck. Before the head had even hit the ground, the human had whipped out an expensive-looking pistol and levered it only inches from the back of the next salarian's head. _Bang_. The face side of the salarian's helmet exploded outwards in a gory plume of green blood and brain matter, showering the turians back. Tali's instincts and training kicked her into action as she whipped out her shotgun, but she found herself hesitating. Who was her enemy?

The turian surprised both her and the human, as he swiftly turned around and swiped with his talons at the ambusher. The human let out a half-growl half-yelp in surprise as the talons struck his gun hand, sending the pistol clattering to the ground. To the human's credit though, he responded quickly, balling the now bleeding hand into a fist and sending a vicious punch back. The turian easily parried it, but found too late that it had been a diversion as the human plunged a long, curved blade down into the plateless section between the turians neck and torso.

The turians eyes widened in shock, as he seized up, staring unbelievingly at the blade stuck halfway into his chest. Then the human growled something in a language her translator didn't recognize. It sounded harsh yet strangely melodic to her ears. She couldn't help but wince as the human grabbed the turian by the collar and drove the remainder of his blade down. He then jerked it side-to-side, cutting through the turians intestines with a wet _ripping_ sound. The turian's mandibles and mouth opened in a silent scream of pain at each motion.

A sickening wet choking noise was the only sound the turian made before he went limp, and the human removed his blade from him before tossing the turian crook to the side.

Tali stood there shaking, her shotgun aimed at the human's chest. The human looked at her, and for some reason he looked _relieved_. The adrenaline from the fight was no doubt still shocking his system, and he was breathing heavily, but he certainly looked relieved. But she wasn't taking any chances. She kept her weapon up.

"Are you alright?" The human asked in a laboured voice. She didn't answer immediately. He turned and wiped the blood off his blade on the lifeless turian's clothes. Then he collected his gun and unashamedly kicked the beheaded salarian over and started rummaging through its pockets, presumably for anything of worth.

"I-I think so. I mean I am. Who are you?" Her voice came out a little harder than she'd intended, but she'd had more than her fill of surprises for the day. The human brushed some of his long hair behind his ear and opened his mouth as to answer but stopped and stared past her. Tali swiveled around; training her gun on the heavily armed group that now came stomping up the alley market-side.

* * *

Shepard didn't believe her eyes. They'd all charged in ready to blow anyone who even _remotely_ looked like a merc away.  
Instead she found herself staring down the barrel of, presumably, the quarian they were looking for. Not to mention the three corpses by the stairs opposite her team.  
There was also a gross green-grey splatter on the floor as well as on the back of the dead turian lying in the middle of a growing pool of his own blood.  
Not to mention the _beheaded_ salarian. What she saw before her looked more like the scene of a twisted serial killing than a battle. And in the middle of it all was a familiar face. Shepard motioned for her squad to stand down, stowing away her weapon.

"Tibbs? What the hell are you doing here?" Ashley beat her to the punch.

"Uhm…" The offending human looked about as if an answer would literally pop out of some corner. "Improvising? Saving a damsel in distress?" He added the last sentence with a lopsided grin, inclining his head toward the quarian.

"_Saving a_- you just attacked them for no reason!" The quarian snapped at the rogue human.

Shepard just shook her head and sighed. All the while, Falklund looked as if he was about to burst into laughter while the shotgun toting quarian kept yelling at him.

"…And I'm _not_ a damsel! I'm twenty-two years old. _Keelah_! And don't you _dare_ laugh at me!"

Tibbs failed spectacularly at containing his laughter. All the while, the hulking krogan at Shepard's side had walked up to the scene, examining the corpses.

"Nice work, human. I especially like what you did to the turian." The massive, red clad krogan grumbled appreciatively.

"A bit much, I'd say. Why not just shoot him?" The turian in C-sec armor behind Shepard added with a frown. Well, at least what would pass as a frown for turians.

Tibbs, now recovered from his fit of laughter, held up his still bleeding hand, with a few torn remnants of bandaging left on it.

"He didn't give me an option. Besides, the way he talked about her…" He inclined his head toward the quarian."…he had it coming."

The quarian hurriedly collapsed and put away her shotgun, marching up to him at a resolute pace. She stopped in front of her savior, activated her omni-tool and held out her hand toward him. Falklund gave her a comically surprised look.

"Here, I've got medi-gel. For your hand." She said after an awkward pause, her voice considerably softer than before.

"Oh! Right, let me just put my sword away." Once the sword was in its sheath, he offered her his hand. He winced as she started to pull away the useless remains of the bandaging.

"Sorry, but it has to come off."

"No, no. It's okay, I just forgot that it hurts. Ehm. The hand, that is."

The purple clad quarian tilted her head curiously at him. "How can you 'forget' that _this_ hurts? And to think you tried to punch him with it…"

"You _what_?" After having a quiet discussion among themselves, Shepard along with her squad had come over. The Commander was now staring him down. The rogue human visibly cringed under her reprimanding gaze.

"I had to distract him _somehow_!" Falklund argued. Shepard sighed and shook her head once more.

"Keep going like this, Falklund, and you won't be _around_ to be crazy for much longer."

"What can I say? It's part of my charm." Shepard just _hmpf_ed in response as Falklund flashed another wide grin.

"Anyways, I'm curious as to what you heard, Falklund. See, we were looking for a quarian as well. For you actually, miss?"

"Tali. Tali'Zorah nar Rayya." Tali made a curt bow of her head as she tended to Falklunds hand.

"It's got something to do with that Saren fellow back on 'Prime, doesn't it?" Falklund asked as he inspected his hand, nodding appreciatively.

"It does. And we were told that Miss Zorah may have some valuable information, _incriminating_ information, about him. How did you know?"

"Guesswork, really. I overheard these thugs talk about killing a quarian, though they used a word I'll never repeat. So I followed, saw her…" He pointed at Tali with a small smile playing over his lips. There was also something else in his eyes. Something that made the quarian discretely play with her fingers while shifting her stance.  
No one seemed to notice though. "…killed them before they could do anything, and then you guys show up. Now that is just too much of a coincidence so…"

"So there _is_ a brain in that head of yours after all?" Ashley finished, taking the opportunity with a warm smile.

"Ha ha, real funny. You don't happen to have another bandage on you would you?"

"Nope, all out of bandages."

"Damnit. Well, I have to get this looked at, and I imagine you people need to get going to wherever you need to go. Not to mention that I need to get away from these dead guys before C-sec comes. Uhm, Tali?"

"Yes?"

"I just want to say a few things. First, you can trust Shepard. And Ashley. They're good people. Second, if you need help later on, I'd be glad to offer whatever I can. I'll be staying at hotel Paradiso for a few days I think, but if anything comes up later, Ash can give you my contact information." Falklund offered the group a nod, Tali another smile, then took off.

* * *

_Aah… säng, underbara säng._ Collapsing onto the bed with a tired groan, my breath puffed out of me along with a tired groan.

It had taken a while, but after a quick visit to Doctor Michel's clinic for a decent bandaging I had returned to the hotel. Now I was wondering what madness had compelled me to want to go to Chora's. I mean hell, I was _spent_.

It was a much better idea to just get some rest and prep for the next day. Speaking of prep, I'd had the clothes I had bought prior to having a lucky fight sent to my hotel.  
I'd thrown away my old tank top too. It was less expensive to buy a new one than have it cleaned by the hotel after all. A small, _cheap_ part of me cringed when I did so though. I don't like to waste things that can be used. Getting rid of this damn Alliance getup would be nice though.

So, my new gear should arrive tomorrow morning. Hopefully I'd have gotten some divine inspiration as to what to do about my life here by then.

I shifted into a more comfortable position. It was nice to get to meet Tali though. Sure, I was reduced to a mindless idiot around her but that was only because I had Tir's warning nagging in my head and cocking up my every thought. With the image of Tali in my head I was sleeping soundly in just a few seconds.

* * *

Two things woke me up the next day. One was a sharp rapping on the door, the other a bleeping noise on my wrist.

"Va' I helvete?" I half-muttered, half-exclaimed.

"Housekeeping!" Someone called out from what I guess was some kind of intercom. The door had to be soundproof after all. Still rubbing the sandman's handiwork out of my eyes I responded without thinking as I slowly stumbled out of bed.

"'S a'ight, come in." I slurred sleepily.

I should perhaps tell you right now that I'm not used to sleeping in hotels. My friends and I usually camped when we went to whatever metal festival was on. Or we slept in the car. I know, but we were a bit cheap like that.

Anyways, the cleaning maid opened the door and stepped in. A quarian girl of all things. _That's a bit demeaning when ya think 'bout it_.

When she caught sight of me though, her hands flew up to her visor as she shrieked, then turned tail and bolted out of the room. I stood there blinking for a bit.

A resounding _smack_ sounded through the room as my palm connected to my face. I glanced down through my fingers as my face was heating up like a furnace.

I should have kept my boxers on when I went to bed last night. And probably had a piss too.

Then perhaps the poor maid wouldn't have been scared half to death by the sight of me buck naked and 'ol Capn' Cox throwing her a morning salute.

Lost for words I simply walked up and closed the door, then headed for the shower.

* * *

A piss and a wash later I stood by the bedside, packing up my meager belongings. And making the bed as well as tidying up. Mostly because I felt bad about that quarian. _Meh, what's done is done._

Once more there was a rapping on the door. Not soundproof then, good to know. _Why not just use the intercom right away_? Shrugging, I walked over to the door again to open it.

And there was the quarian maid again. She was staring down and shuffling her feet, clearly embarrassed. Hell, who wouldn't be?

I took the opportunity to take in her appearance this time. She was obviously on her Pilgrimage judging from her suit. It was patched up and worn in a lot of places. Used to look great though, that much I could tell. The cloth was a deep red with thin lines of silver swirling across it in a delicate pattern. The framing line of her hood was black. Her visor was a pale shade of orange. Like the edge of an early sunset back home in Sweden. That train of thought carried me away for a minutes. Long enough for her to dare look up and see me staring off into the distance with a dreaming expression.

"E-Excuse me, s-sir?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry, It's just… your visor, it got me thinking."

She raised her arm, holding it in sort of a shielding gesture across her chest while leaning back a little.

"I-I'm not sure I follow. S-sir!" She was clearly distressed, but even so, she had a slightly higher pitch to her voice. It sounded a little girlish, to be frank. _She must've just come here on her Pilgrimage, and this is what the galaxy has to offer her?_

I shook my head at the thought and walked back in, heading for the mini-bar. The quarian remained at the door, no doubt unnerved.

"Sorry about before!" I called out over my shoulder. "I'm not really used to sleeping in hotels so, uhm. Yeah. Got a bit too homey I guess. Just so you know I wasn't doing anything, erm. _Indecent._ It's just, well. Human bodily functions playing tricks on me."

She didn't respond, so I shot a glance her way. Her stance was more relaxed at least. Good.

"I see…" She stepped through the door, but jumped as it automatically closed behind her.

* * *

"If I might ask…" I looked up at her from my drink; some asari gook that tasted somewhat similarly to martini. Not as overpoweringly sweet as martini though.  
Also it's got this hint of bitterness to it. Sort of cactusy. "… What was it about my visor that, uhm, got you thinking?"

She was looking at me with that same tilt of her head that Tali had used. I'm guessing it's how quarians express curiosity.

"The color. It reminded me of home." I stirred my drink around with a small circling motion while putting my free hand in my pocket and leaning against the mini-bar with my legs crossed. "That shade of orange…" I inclined my head toward her. "Is the same as the early sunsets back home. In autumn… Sorry again about before, I… I don't have any excuse, really."

"No, it's, uhm, okay. I guess." She visibly relaxed but was still shuffling her feet a little and averting her eyes. Then she suddenly snapped to. Smiling, I could damn near see the light bulb hovering above her head.

"Sir! I was supposed to tell you; your delivery arrived an hour ago. You can pick it up from the lobby when you leave or I can go fetch it for you now. I-If you want me too, that is. Sir." For some reason, that last part made her even more nervous. No, not nervous, but something like it. I studied her curiously for a bit. Then it hit me.

"Oh! Well, of course I wouldn't mind you fetching it for me!" I assured her, smiling. She looked up with her eyes clearly widened in surprise. "So long as it's no trouble for you, that is." I added.

Her eyes squinted in a way that must mean she was smiling. Or, grinning more like it.

"Of course not, sir! I'll be right back!" She made to run out of the room, but then stopped and swiveled in the doorway. "If I might ask, sir. Will you be staying here for long?"

"Aren't you full of questions?" I chuckled. "Well, yes, I might be around for a few days at least, why do you ask?"

"Well..." She started, squirming a little. "If your mini-bar was to be restocked without you being charged for it, you might not need to mention it to anyone." She continued with a slightly cheeky voice.

"I'll keep that in mind." I simply said, winking at her.

I could swear I heard a faint giggle as the quarian maid took off.

* * *

**Meanwhile, aboard the SSV Normandy.**

Shepard checked her mailbox for what had to be the twentieth time. Still no answer.

She sighed and cracked her neck, eliciting a satisfying _pop-pop_. She'd been sitting at the captains' terminal for ages it seemed, wrapping up reports and double checking inventory logs and logistics.

Why the Normandy wasn't staffed with someone to handle the logistics was beyond her. _That's it_. She thought to herself. _I need to get out of here before my neck goes stiff as a tree trunk._

The first person she saw when she got out of her quarters was Gunnery Chief Williams. She was sat at the mess table, fiddling with her omni-tool.  
Or reading something more like it since her hands weren't moving.

The commander walked over to take a seat. Williams was so absorbed by her reading however, that she didn't notice Shepard sitting down in front of her.

"_Hr-hrm_."

"Oh! Sorry commander. Ma'am. I didn't see you." She went rigid at the sight of her commanding officer.

"At ease, chief." Shepard chuckled. "It must be a good read." She added, gesturing toward the holographic screen hovering above Williams's omni-tool. Ashley smiled. There was hint of fondness in her smile as she looked back at the text.

"This? Yeah, it's actually something Tibbs wrote."

"Really? Oh, Now I remember! You two knew each other on Eden Prime, right?"

"Yeah… Funny though."

"Why?" Shepard leaned forward, her interest piqued.

"I'd been stationed on Eden Prime for a while, and I hadn't seen him before. Like, he wasn't even a familiar face. Suddenly he just shows up out of nowhere, as if dropped right out of the sky."

Shepard chuckled. "You'd think you remembered a guy with that hair. And accent."

"You'd remember a lot of things about him." Ashley said, with a lightly thoughtful expression. "You couldn't tell from looking at him, but he writes pretty decent poetry.  
That's what I was reading just now." Ashley's smile suddenly vanished, and she turned off her omni-tool, leaning on her elbows with her chin against the palm of her hand.

"… I hope he shows up."

Shepard didn't answer at first, not really able to decide whether to comfort the chief or joke the frown off her face. She decided on a middle ground.

"I'm sure he'll realize that a poetic killer is more useful on the Normandy than on Omega, Chief."

A small smile crept over Ashley's lips. "Don't count on it; he's got enough crazy in him for ten nutcases. Minimum."

Shepard laughed. "No kidding, but that kind of crazy is obviously effective against geth. And I suspect there'll be a lot of those where we're going."

"Yeah."

There was a moment of comfortable silence. Shepard glanced at Ashley's omni-tool a few times, itching with curiosity.

"…Actually, Chief, can I have a look at those poems?"

* * *

**Back at hotel Paradiso.**

_That quarian must have really hauled ass_, I thought to myself as I went to open the door for the second time today. It'd only been a few minutes, five tops, until there was another rapping on the door.

The door opened to reveal said quarian maid, now balancing two large bags and what had to be two shoeboxes. How she had managed to whack away at the solid metal door with all that on her was, mildly put, puzzling to me.

"Wow, that was fast. Here, you don't have to carry all that…"

"Oh, no, it's fine, sir!"

Not wanting to unintentionally insult her, I just scratched my neck and got out of her way while gesturing toward the bed. "You can just put it over there…"

"Yes, sir." She answered. Well, more like _chirped_ to be honest. _Oh, well_.

I followed her to the bedside, starting to check through the bags to make sure it was all there. Which it was. And some extra stuff I _hadn't_ ordered.  
Namely a butt-ugly future sweater. Or something. It looked like that nasty creation Udina wears in ME-one. Only it was red with grey details.  
There was a note attached to it as well; "_Dear customer! We at Vilay Clothing sincerely thank you for your business, and wish to serve you again soon. As a token of our appreciation, we offer you this formal attire free of charge. Have a pleasant day!"_

My eyes went back and forth between the note and the… thing, called formal wear.

"Well…" I snickered. "It's formally ugly, I'll tell you that."

"Sir? That looks expensive, I'm sure they meant no disrespect."

"I don't think so either, but this isn't exactly my _style_." I put the ugly-shirt aside and threw the accompanying ugly-pants on top of it. Space fashion was comically out of fashion in the Mass Effect universe it would seem.

"Uhm, sir? Is there anything else I can do for you?"

I blinked a few times at that, not exactly used to this kind of attention.

"No..." I started, but then I had an idea. "Actually, yes. There is. Would you mind having a look at these clothes? I just want to see what you think about them?"

"What? Sir! I'm sure my opinion doesn't-"

"Great! Wait here while I get changed." I flashed her a smile, grabbed some clothes and darted into the bathroom before she could object.

A minute later I came out. I was wearing a pair of grey sneakers with black laces, thin orange details and black soles.  
For pants I had a pair of deep blue jeans (cost me a bloody fortune because it was 'vintage'. Idiots.) As for my torso I was wearing a simple black shirt.  
And I had new underwear, black ones with a white skull on the front, though I wasn't exactly showing her _that_. And yes; I like having funny underwear, thank you, ser!

"So…" I turned full circle slowly with my arms in an open gesture. "What do _you_ think?" I stressed the _you_ part to make it clear that I wanted _her_ opinion.

For some reason, she seemed to let her guard down a little, raising her hand up to her chin in a thinking gesture while studying me.

"Well… I don't see many humans wearing clothes like these. I'm guessing it's unique? A specific style?" I just smiled in reply. "Hmm… I think it looks good. It suits you." There was a warmer, more personal tone to her voice now.

"Thanks." I smiled at her and then gave my clothes another once-over, nodding to myself in satisfaction. Then I grabbed another set and went back changing clothes again.

Same routine again. I was now wearing a black t-shirt with one red stripe running from each shoulder and all the way down in a straight line. Kind of N7'eny if you ask me. Also, I had black jeans this time. I'd switched into my other new pair of shoes now too; synthetic leather boots with two straps from front to back on the outer side and a zipper along the side. The straps were really just decoration. The boots ended about 12-13 centimeters above my ankle. So kinda tall. And very metal. And of course I wore my jeans over my boots. Only hillbillies tuck them in.

"How about now?"

"Oh, I like the boots." She answered almost before I was done asking. I chuckled a little.

"What about the rest?"

"Well, I guess you know that black suits you. The red stripes are a nice touch." She stepped forward to look more closely. "It works well with your…markings, as well." She was closer now.

"My tattoos?" I asked, in a much warmer tone than I had intended.

"Yes…" She looked as though she was going to touch them; one hand half raised while the other rested at the base of her neck now, just above her chest. But she stopped there, and the air just got thicker and thicker.

"What about this?" I asked a little quieter. Then I stepped over to the bed, pulled my t-shirt off and put on a black tank top with a runic sort of demonic skull insignia on the front. I'd drawn it myself at the kiosk and they'd had it printed. It was a simple design really, but it looked awesome (from a metalhead's point of view).  
Then I grabbed the two studded synth-leather 'bracers' I'd ordered. To be honest, I was shocked to see that they even had that. Guess it passes as 'vintage' these days.  
You can't kill rock n' roll, huh?

Then I walked back over to the maid._ Can't keep calling her 'maid' or 'quarian' in my head anymore; feels so wrong in so many ways._ I exhaled slowly, letting out a breath I didn't realize I had kept in. For some reason my nerves were firing up like crazy. I don't know what it was, but my gut seemed to have taken command for the moment.

"How's this?" I asked again.

The quarian stood rigid with her torso, almost as if frozen. But her waist and legs were squirming, if but the slightest. Luminescent eyes almost round.

"I…" Her omni-tool winked into existence briefly, and I heard a distinct _sniffing_ sound. She did something else on her omni-tool and then deactivated it. Then she closed her eyes, her body swaying back and forth ever so slightly.

I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about the whole situation had me in a trance. I was mesmerized by this petite thing in front of me. Every move and even the faintest of sounds she made seemed to pull me closer at a cellular level.

When she opened her eyes again, she looked at me with half-lidded eyes. "It's… you."

I stepped in closer to her as soon as she looked into my eyes, leaning in subconsciously.

"What's your name?" I asked quietly, my voice suddenly both thick and smooth. _Seriously, what the hell is happening?_

"Raenna'Dovas… nar Shivante" Her fingers started trailing the tattoo on my shoulder. She locked eyes with me, and I could swear before any court that she opened her mouth in a soundless question.

"Isak. Isak Falklund." I murmured in answer, stepping so close to her that my face almost touched her visor.

I could feel my heartbeat turning to a chaotic blur, my every sense focused on Raenna. I could almost feel her even though I wasn't touching her.

"Isak…" She repeated, hear voice warm and breathy. Something about her quarian accent distorted my name into a primal calling, sending a heated shiver of raw desire running down my spine.

My hands flew to her waist, pulling her close.

"Raenna…" I whispered intimately next where my instincts told me her ear was. Her hands seemed to fly to my chest in the blink of an eye. The feeling of her three fingered hands, even if gloved, against my chest and shoulders was indescribable. I could hear her breathing growing heavier as my hands roamed across her back and over her waist. Without thinking I was pushing my fingers against the fabric of her suit a little harder than I would have against naked skin.

Her breath hitched as I pushed against the small of her back, pressing her up against me, kissing her just above the mouthpiece of her mask. Suddenly she started pushing herself away from me, though her actions were reluctant. I loosened my hold on her but she still rested her hands against my chest, and her hips were still close to me, even though she was leaning back. Away from me.

"Raenna?" I called, softly.

"This… We can't." It seemed as though she was struggling to catch her breath.

"Oh… It's okay. I don't want to force you. I just… I don't mean anything…bad, by this." Suddenly feeling extremely awkward I let go of her and started pulling away from her. I didn't get far though, as her fingers closed, grabbing hold of my tank top.

She hung hear head, and then she made a sound that made my heart feel like someone had twisted it 360 degrees in my chest. She sobbed. Her shoulder started shaking.

I swallowed hard and grabbed her hands. Squeezing them lightly just to indicate my presence.

"Raenna, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I-"

"_Stop…_"

"-Just couldn't help myself. You're just so adorable that I-"

"Keelah, _Stop!_" She shrieked. Her hands were holding my clothing in a death-grip. My mouth snapped shut. We were quiet for a while. Well, I was. Raenna was crying.  
There was something oddly serene about her crying. Completely heart wrenching for me, true. Yet somehow serene.

"Ever since I came here…" She started talking, shakily and interrupted every now and then by quiet sobs. " I've been treated like dirt. Like I don't even deserve to be _alive_. People barely look at me when I talk to them, and if they do they look as though I'm some sewage filth held under their noses! And I can't even go to a store without someone following me just to make sure I don't _steal_. I'm not a thief!" Her voice cracked as she yelled. "I even get chased out of stores sometimes when I'm just there to buy nutrient paste. And I can't even make enough money to get away from here because no one will give me a decent job. And even if I did, there's no place else to go because they're even worse from what I hear. My teachers back at the Flotilla talked about how I was one of the most promising pilots they'd ever seen, and here I am making beds and cleaning hotel rooms. And I had to work _so_ hard to even have that!"

Her small frame was wracked with sobs as she slowly shook her head, gripping even tighter at my tank top. My heart dropped like a stone in my chest. _I'm such an asshole_. _This is no different than taking advantage of her in the worst of ways._

"And then you… you treat me like an equal, like I'm not filth. You even treat me with respect and… and…*_sob_*_Keelah_."

"Raen-"She silenced me by pressing a finger against my lips. Then she looked up at me. And I damn near cried myself. She looked so vulnerable, so fragile I suddenly felt afraid that even the slightest touch might break her.

"Why?" She asked, locking her eyes with mine.

"I'm not sure where to begin." I hesitated. Her eyes implored me to go on. "They're wrong, all of them. Your people don't deserve to be treated like this. In fact, your kind is worth so much more than most. You're honest, hardworking, diligent, honorable and talented –I mean the list just goes on and on. In fact, I don't even need to know you to know that you're an admirable person because most quarians are. And besides from that, I just… I don't really know how I know it or how it works but there's just… Something in you, something great." I let my eyes delve deeper into the shining depths of hers. It was almost like diving into a moonlit pool of water, but with the light shining from the bottom of it rather than above it; Growing in intensity as you swam deeper. "Something that draws me in." I finished, my voice unconsciously lowered to a tender caress.

Raenna sobbed again, but it had a distinctly different ring to it. Lighter. Happy, almost. She leaned into me again, resting the top of her head against my chest. I must've been almost two heads taller than her.

"I saw the case. The guns." She stated, looking up at me again and searching my face. "What do you do?"

I thought for a bit. It turned out to be one hell of a tricky question. I mean, I'm not really a mercenary. Could be, but I'm not. Not yet at least. After mulling it over for a bit, I found that the simplest answer was the truest. And I didn't want to lie to her, that much was certain.

"I'm a killer."

She went stiff for a bit, her eyes searching mine for an answer not spoken.

"Why? Who for?"

"Because I enjoy it. Sometimes because it must be done. Sometimes because it is right. And I kill for myself. Mostly."

"_Mostly_?"

"Well, yeah, there's honor too. And friends."

For some reason, she relaxed again. Her fingers unclenching. I opened my mouth to speak, but she silenced me again.

"Why do this? Why me?" She inquired, her voice laden with a greater urgency, yet also quieter. Softer.

"Because I want to. Because it just…happened."

Her shoulders dropped as she sighed and broke eye contact.

"Great. I might as well have been a-" She started talking in a flat, disappointed voice.

"_Because_… you're beautiful." Her head jerked up, her eyes frantically searching mine. "Which is something I don't just say to anyone. It has special meaning to me. And I mean it." Her hand went to cover her mouthpiece as I finished.

"You _do_…" She spoke the words as though she didn't believe them herself even though she could see it in my eyes.

"I do." I smiled warmly at her.

"But I'm quarian! I can't. We can't. Uhm…"

"Oh, I'm sure we could think of something. I'm well aware that you can't take off your suit."

"So why do you even bother?" She sighed.

"Raenna…" I said, gently caressing the side of her visor while bringing an arm around her, gently pushing her closer. She hesitantly brought her arms around my neck in response.

"Mm?"

"I told you I think you're beautiful, didn't I? And that's with your suit _on_."

"But-"

"No buts! Well, except maybe…" I grinned as I let my hand slide down to her waist and further down, grasping her buttocks firmly enough for her to feel the pressure through the suit. "… This one!"

She eeked and giggled. I chuckled and scooped her up, then carried her to the bed. Unwilling to let me go, she pulled me down with her when I lay her down. We crawled up higher onto the bed together, not breaking eye contact once. Then we just lay there, holding each other closely, our blood slowly running hotter as we gently caressed. Growing a little bolder with each caress.

"You know, I could ask you the same thing." I murmured.

"What?" She asked; curiosity mixed with an undertow of desire pulling at something deep within me.

"I'm not quarian. Isn't that weird to you?"

"Well, there's not that much about you that's _not_ weird so far. Even compared to what I've seen of other humans."

"Oh, wow, _thanks_." The irony in my response couldn't have been more obvious.

"But do you honestly think I'd let you do this with me if I didn't… uhm, you know what I mean."

"Actually I don't. Enlighten me." I teased. She buried her visor in my shoulder and muttered something my translator couldn't make sense of.

"What's that, sötnos?" I smiled at how cute she was when embarrassed. Now she looked up at me with what I interpreted as a quizzical look.

"I think my translator glitched."

"Nope. I don't think you've got Swedish in your translator."

"That's the language you grew up with, am I right?"

"Bullseye." I nodded.

"So? What did you say!"

"You first." I grinned.

"No fair!" She exclaimed. Then she slapped my shoulder when I laughed.

"Alright then, but it sounds silly when translated directly. It literally means 'cutenose'." Raenna just stared at me for a few seconds. Then she started snickering.

"You're right." She suddenly burst out into the cutest laughter I'd ever heard. "It _is_ silly!"

"Hey! It's pretty much the same as saying 'sweetheart' or 'sweetie'. Man, I give you a compliment and you laugh at me." I mock-pouted. Raenna stopped laughing after a bit and scooted closer to me, caressing my cheek and lightly pressing her visor against my forehead.

"Thanks… _Nehya_." She whispered.

_Wait, where have I heard that before? _That word. It sounded familiar somehow, and I knew what it meant. What the hell? My initial alarm quickly faded though, brushed away by the three fingers gently running up and down my jawline. Both our breathing was heavier by now, but as I brought one hand around to her chest she gasped and hooked a leg around mine. Obviously simply aroused by knowing that I was touching her in such an intimate way; my ministrations were too light to be felt through the fabric of her suit. I leaned in to kiss her, but just as my lips connected she pulled away a little. If I were to guess, the act of kissing had more or a different meaning to quarians compared to humans.

"Wait…" She murmured in an almost hoarse voice as she tried to catch her breath. "… I've never… done this before."

I sighed and ran my fingers along her hood. _Realk_. What the hell?! There it was again!

Raenna must have picked up on my alarm, because she unhooked her leg from mine and made to get up from the bed.

"Hey, hey! Where are you going?"

"… Out, I guess."

"Is that what you want?" I asked, honestly a little worried. A small part in the back of my mind stung. That annoying little voice saying '_you're not good enough!_' Some of you may be familiar with it.

"Isn't it what _you_ want? I saw you seizing up when I said… Ugh, you're not going to make me say it again." She was sitting up with her legs under her and was now bracing her feet against the bed. _Huh, quarian leg structure makes for some weird-Oi! Snap out of it!_

I quickly sat up next to her and held her firmly in my arms.

"Raenna, wait-"

"Stop playing with me, you _bosh'tet_!" She suddenly shrieked and then struggled to break free but I held her firmly in place. Somehow she managed to end up with her legs on either side of me, with both her feet and hands bracing against me.

"Damnit! Stop that, will you? I'm trying to be careful!" And I was; the_ last_ thing I wanted to do was to accidentally damage her suit.

"Liar!" She screamed. "You don't get it! You don't know what it-"

"Yes, _I do_!" I suddenly screamed back, frustration taking over. "I know that it's never just casual sex for you quarians. I _know_ how big a step this is, especially if it's your first time, which I by the way knew pretty much right off the bat since you're obviously on your Pilgrimage!" She abruptly stopped fighting when I said 'pilgrimage'. Now she was staring at me with eyes filled with an odd mix of anger and hope. "I mean, how old are you even?"

"Nine-teen." She muttered in a glum voice.

"See? I'm not only human, but older than you. Listen to me now, okay?" She nodded. "I don't want to take advantage of you. In _any way_. It doesn't matter what I want. But I don't want you to think I'm rejecting you either. Because I'm not." I gave her a stern stare. After a while, she relaxed. Even brought her arms around my neck.

"But what _do_ you want?" She cautiously asked.

"You. Is that so damn hard to see?" She nodded again, and I sighed exasperatedly.

"Then look down." She did, inhaled sharply and scooted back on my legs.

"Keelah!"

"Questions?"

"Yes. You know I can't take off my suit, right?"

"Yep."

"And that's okay with you?"

"… Obviously." She giggled but slapped my shoulder all the same.

"_Bosh'tet_. What about afterwards?"

"Yeah… That. I don't know. At all. I won't stay on the Citadel. Eden Prime was bombed to shit so I've nowhere to return to. Sweden isn't an option. So I don't know.  
Thought I'd try Omega. And I'm not really good at anything but, well, _killing_. The point is; I'm not likely to live for very long or have a peaceful life. And you should have both. And also…" This is the part I really dreaded saying, but it had to be said. As I said before; I didn't want to lie to her. "…This won't make it, _us_, permanent.  
This is what it is; special in its own way. I don't love you, and I don't easily fall in love. _But_…" I brought a hand up to her chin. Well, the bottom of her helmet really. "… I suspect you're the kind of girl I might fall in love with. Someday, who knows? But right now I don't want to complicate things. I think you're beautiful, I care about you even though we haven't even known each other for an hour yet. And I want you."

She sat still for a while, running her fingers through my hair and mulling it all over. Apparently, she came to some conclusion, because she leaned into me and placed her visor against my forehead. Her eyes level with mine.

"You'll have to tell me about all that later. One last question."

"Alright?"

"Will you be nice?"

I smiled and kissed her mouthpiece. "I promise."

She squealed and scooted closer to me, pressing her mouthpiece gently against my lips in a 'kiss' of her own, wrapping her legs around my back. This time I made sure she'd feel it through the suit as I caressed her breasts. Raenna let out a cooing noise at my touch, bring her arms around me and pressing herself up against my hands.  
Her breathing got harder. She suddenly let out a high pitched moan as I squeezed harder where I figured her nipple would be. I let my other hand migrate down her back, caressing its way down to her firm behind. Her breathing hitched as I squeezed her backside as well, and she ground her groin against mine in response.  
I could feel myself slipping into a lust-induced haze. I started shedding clothes.

Pretty soon we were under the sheets; myself in nothing but my birthday suit. _Oh, sweet irony_.

Raenna's powerful quarian legs simply refused to let go as she ground herself on me. Now she moaned softly into my ear with every move of her well-shaped hips.  
My own climax wasn't far away. However, I wanted to make sure she enjoyed this just as much and preferably more than I did.

My hand found its way down to her center, lightly at first, so that she wouldn't notice. When I found what I thought was the right spot though, I pushed hard against the fabric. The response nearly sent me over the edge right away. Raenna let out a moan that was practically a scream, pushing herself against my fingers, and suddenly grabbing my aching member. Stroking my member and grinding her groin hard against my fingers, she started to murmur my name along with a string of unintelligible Khelish into my ear.

Then I couldn't take it anymore, my brain too addled with desire to think even a single coherent thought.

I flipped her on her back and started grinding harder against her while somehow retaining the sense left in me to continue rubbing her sensitive spot.  
We both started climbing toward our climax, clinging to each other desperately and moaning the others name.

"Mm. Mm. Uhnn… _Isak_." Her accent saturated with lust sent ripples of pleasure through me.

"Nh. Uhn. _Raenna… I'm close…_"

Raenna threw her arms around my neck, pressing her visor against my face as the rest of her body did its best to try and touch me with as much of it as possible.

"Oh._ Oooh_…" She started shaking, her hips rocked by relentless spasms. "In-_Ah!-_Inside me… _please_!"

That last scream of hers sent me over the edge. I shouted her name hoarsely as I finished on her belly.

I collapsed on top of her, completely spent. She on the other hand wasn't quite finished yet, and she buried her visor in my shoulder, hugging me tight as her body was wracked by several more spasms. Finally her orgasm relented and she started to regain her senses.

I rolled off her and onto my back, she was about to follow me over when she spotted the, hrm, _damage_ I'd done to her suit. She muttered something that sounded like a very tired '_Keelah'_ before reluctantly getting out of bed and into the bathroom. After a few minutes of hearing the water running there was another, much louder, '_Keelah!_'

Eventually, she finished cleaning up and came back out. For some reason she stopped by the bedside and started shuffling with her feet with her hands clasped behind her back.

"That…" I said with a broad smile. "…Is absolutely adorable. Not to mention confusing. What are you doing, sweetie?"

"I, uhm. I'm not sure what to, ehm. I mean I don't know what is _customary_-"

"Screw customs, just get back here, or I'll come get you." I winked at her.

She giggled and actually _skipped_ over to my side of the bed. She stopped and looked me. Puzzled, I sat up in the bed. But before I could ask what she was doing, she pounced on me, giggling like crazy as we flopped around in the bed. After a bit of tumbling about and laughing our asses off for no apparent reason, we settled down. Raenna was resting with most of her on top of me, her left hand on my right shoulder. Her left leg was hooked in under my right. A content sigh escaped her lips as she lay there, nuzzling into my neck and playing with her fingers over my arm.

I on the other hand had one arm draped over her shoulders, and the other was playing with _her_ arm.

"So… still okay with the suit?"

"Hell yes. Though you seemed to forget you had it on for a moment there." I grinned at her. She burrowed her visor under my chin. "_Hey_, it was cute. Sexy as hell too. Just as long as you don't actually take anything _off_ it's all good." She groaned in reply. "What is sweetie?"

"I want to touch you." Raenna muttered morosely.

"I'm right here."

"No, I mean for real. I want all this but… real."

"Oh."

We fell quiet for a bit. Then I had an epiphany, of sorts.

"Hey."

"Mm?"

"This hotel doesn't happen to have a sterile suite does it?"

Raenna lay motionless for a moment. Suddenly she bolted up, letting out a barely contained eek.

"It does! The top floor has them!" Sighing, her mood drooped again. "But they're very expensive; I don't think I could ever afford it. Even if I did, they probably wouldn't let me stay there because I'm, you know..."

"Hotter than hell?"

Raenna laughed then laid back down, wrapping her arms up and around my head while resting her visor against my forehead.

"Why weren't you here a year ago?" She asked dreamily.

"I wish I was…" I muttered, memories of a past life flooding back. Thankfully, they now felt comfortably distant.

"You know…" I continued; my lips forming into a mischievous grin. "I do have a _killer_ salary, so I might be able to set us up."

Raenna laughed at first, but eventually she pretty much _radiated_ disbelief. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Dead serious."

"But… I can't, I mean the only reason I can get away with _this_…" She made a sweeping gesture across the room. "Is because nobody cares about what happens in the cheap rooms. And even though I hate it here I need this job. I've got nowhere else to go."

"So basically you can't be with me because your boss won't like it?"

She looked at me quietly then nodded. I could swear I heard a faint sniffle coming from her as she lay back down, clinging to me with a new sense of desperation.

A surge of anger heated my blood. "I Helvete heller!" I threw the covers off and got out of bed angrily.

"Sorry…" Raenna whispered in a broken voice.

"What? Sweetie, what _are_ you apologizing for? I'm angry at those bastards you have to work for." I stepped back to the bed and leaned over to kiss her. "I'm hitting the shower and then I'm getting you a new job _and_ the sterile suite."

Raenna blinked at me, lost for words. "W-what? H-how?"

Turning in the doorway to the bathroom, I flashed her a grin. "I just so happen to have a favor to cash in."

* * *

**Author's Addendum:**

"**I helvete heller!" = "Hell no!"**

"**Säng"= "Bed"**

"**Underbara"= "Wonderful/Marvellous"**

**Oh, and before someone goes "Quarians don't have sex with strangers!" I'd like to point out that in ME2 there is a conversation taking place between a turian and a quarian in the bar Eternity. In that conversation the quarian specifically says she was dating humans. PLURAL. So I'd say it pretty much depends on the individual. And when it comes to sex, people get creative. All I'm saying is that the suit isn't all that much of a hurdle to overcome.**


End file.
